MEMOIRS 


OF  THE 


Due   DE  SAINT-SIMON. 

Volume  II. 


Clje  Qtouv  tre  iFcaiue  IStiition 

Limited  to  Twelve  Hundred  and 
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MEMOI  RS 


OF   THE 


DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON 


ON   THE   TIMES   OF 


LOUIS  XIV.  AND  THE  REGENCY. 


translate!)  anH  IbriDgeU 


KATHARINE    PRESCOTT   WORMELEY, 

FROM   THE  EDITION   COLLATED   WITH   THE   ORIGINAL   MANUSCRIPT 
BY    M.   CHERUEL. 


ILLUSTRATED  WITH  PORTRAITS  FROM  THE  ORIGINAL. 

IN    FOUR    VOLUMES. 
Vol..    II. 


H  O  S  T  O  N  : 
HARDY,    I'KATT    &    COMPANY. 

1902 


Copyright,  1899, 
By  Hardy,  Pratt  &  Company. 


Ail  rights  reserved. 


?Snii3ersitg  ?PrH»: 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge,  U.  S.  A. 


;3  o 
1901 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 


Page 

The  terms  on  which  I  stood  with  the  Due  d'Orleans.  —  Strange  curiosities 

about  the  future. — The  Due  d'Orleans  dissatisfied  with  tlie  siege 
of  Turin.  —  Council  of  war  at  which  he  ceases  to  give  orders. — 
Singular  rapidity  with  which  I  hear  of  the  disasters  before  Turin. 

—  Ketrenchnients.  —  Birth  of  the  second  Due  de  Bretagne. — 
Death  of  tiie  Bishop  of  Autun.  —  Fontpertuis.  —  Condition  of  tiie 
finances.  —  King's  equerry  captured  by  a  detachment  of  the  enemy. 

—  Parvulo  de  Meudon.  —  M  and  Mnie.  du  Maine ;  their  characters 

and  conduct. — Tiie  Comte  de  Toulouse 1 


CHAPTER   ri. 

Death  of  Mme.  de  Montespan.  —  Death  of  the  Dnchesse  de  Nemours. 
—  Fatal  tempest  and  inundations.  —  The  Scotcli  project.  —  Suite 
of  the  king  of  England  ;  tiicir  characters.  — The  fleet  delayed  and 
cliased  ;  failure  of  project.  —  First  occasion  on  which  the  Pretender 
was  80  named,  —  Meeting  of  the  kings  at  Marly.  —  Strange  speech 
of  the  king. — The  Due  de  Bourgogne  destined  to  tiio  army  in 
Flanders.  —  Curious  conversation  with  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers. — 
The  king  picks  Samuel  Bernard's  pocket  pleasantly 31 


CHAPTER    III. 

].)cath,  forlnno,  and  clinrartnr  of  Mansart. —  Disaptcrs  in  Klandors; 
df)f(!ii,t  at  y\nd<!nard(). —  lUiJiavioiir  of  llin  <'alml  of  Moiulon. — 
Diichr'SHo  do  Itonrgdgno ;  her  coniind..  —  Anxioty  iit  Court.— 
I   bet  with  Cani  iiboul   Lillo. —  IndilTiicncii  u£  .Monsoiguour.  —  I 


oMriGGl 


•n  CONTENTS. 

Page 

am  warned  by  Bishop  of  Chartres  of  injury  done  me  with  the 
king.  —  Return  of  the  princes  to  Court.  —  deception  of  the  Due 
de  Bourgogne.  —  Keturu  aud  reception  of  the  Due  de  Veudome. 

—  Triumphant  reception  of  tlie  Mare'chal  de  Boufflers.  —  Death 
and  character  of  Pere  de  La  Chaise 61 

CHAPTER  IV. 

Pere  Tellier,  confessor;  his  character.  —  Death  and  character  of  the 
Priuce  de  Conti.  —  Singular  coincidence  of  thought  between  tlie 
Due  de  Chevreuse  aud  me.  —  Terrible  winter;  frightful  poverty. — 
Recoiuage  of  currency,  aud  increase  to  more  than  intrinsic  value. 

—  Death  of    M.   le  Priuce;    his  character.  —  Overthrow  of    M. 

de  Veudome 90 

CHAPTER  V. 

Council  of  war  before  the  king;  very  stormy.  —  Small  riots  in  Paris; 
and  threats. — The  king,  royal  family,  and  Court  send  their  plate 
to  the  mint.  —  Dismissal  of  Chamillart.  —  His  magnanimity. — 
Death  of  the  Prince  de  Carignan.  —  Worthy  act  on  the  part  of 
M.  le  Grand.  —  Reasons  whicii  inclined  me  to  retire  from  Court. — 
Sketch  of  the  Court;  tlie  tliree  cabals.  —  My  situation  among  these 
cabals.  —  Affairs  iu  Spain  of  the  Due  d'Orleans.  —  Terrilile  storm 
against  the  Due  d'Orleans  — Proposal  to  arraigu  him  judicially. — 
Conversation  of  Mme.  de  Saiut-Simou  with  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers 
on  my  situation 120 

CHAPTER  VI. 

Dearne.?3  of  everything,  and  want  of  bread.  —  Port-Royal;  Molinism 
and  Jansenism.  —  The  famous  conclave  De  Auxillis.  —  Peace  of 
Clement  IX.  —  Bull  Vineam  Domini  Sabaoth.  —  Port-Royal  des 
Champs  refuses  to  sign  it. — Port-Royal  innocent  in  Rome,  guilty 
in  Paris.  —  Military  destruction  of  Port-Royal  des  Ciiamps.  —  Dis- 
cussion about  my  retirement.  —  A  wise  trap  laid  for  me  at  Pont- 
chartrain.  —  Decision  I  make,  alone,  and  its  motive.  —  Proposal 
that  I  decide  to  make  to  the  Due  d'Orleans.  —  Marcchal  obtains 
for  me  an  audience  with  tlie  king.  —  My  attempts  with  the  Due 
d'Orleans;  their  success 153 


CONTENTS.  Til 


CHAPTER   VII. 

Page 

The  king  names  au  hour  for  my  audience.  —  My  audience.  —  Success 
of  my  audience.  —  Joy  of  the  king  at  the  rupture.  —  Intimate  rela- 
tions between  the  Ducliesse  d'Orle'ans  and  me.  —  No  New  Year's 
gifts  from  tlie  king  this  year.  —  Curious  admission  of  the  Due 
de  Beauvilliers  about  the  Abbe  de  Polignac.  —  Birth  of  King 
Louis  XV.  —  Marriage  of  the  Due  de  Luynes  with  Mile,  de  Neuf- 
chatel.  —  The  children  of  M.  du  Maine  given  equal  rank  with 
himself.  —  Very  singular  scene  at  this  announcement  in  the  king's 
cabinet.  —  I  return  to  Marly  with  the  king.  —  Conversation  with 
the  Due  de  Beauvilliers.  —  Crayon  of  the  Due  de  Bourgogne. — 
Efforts  of  the  Dutdiesse  d'Orleans  to  make  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon 
lady-of-lionour  to  tlie  future  Ducliesse  de  Berry.  —  Announcement 
of  the  marriage  of  tlie  Due  de  Berry. — The  king  declares  Mme. 
de  Saint-Simon  lady-of-honour 181 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

Marriage  of  the  Due  de  Berry  and  Mademoiselle.  —  Melancholy  reflec- 
tion.s.  —  Death  of  Mine,  de  la  Valliere.  —  The  tithe  tax.  —  Pcre 
Tellier  persuades  tlie  king  that  the  property  of  his  subjects  is 
his. — The  council  of  finance.  —  Hecoinago  and  profit  on  the  cur- 
rency.—  Balls,  pleasures,  and  fetes  at  Court  all  the  winter. — 
Bondin;  ills  position  and  character.  —  Death  and  short  eulogy  of 
the  .Marcclial  de  Clioiseul.  —  Death  of  Boileau-Despre'aux.  —  Begin- 
ning of  the  affair  that  produced  tlie  bull  Unujenilns.  —  My  embar- 
rassment with  regard  to  Mou.seigiiour  and  his  Court 213 


CnATTEIl   IX. 

IlInoHS  of  MonHcignnur.  —  CoiitruBtH  at  Mi-ndon.  —  Singular  convorsa- 
tion  liotwcon  tho  DnclinHSO  d'Orlcaim  and  mo. — Tlio  Sc(>n(i  nt 
Moudon. —  Death  of  MonsoigntMir. — 'I'ho  Scoiio  at  VorMaillos. — 
Surprising  tciu-H  i)f  tint  Due  d'Orl  •anM,  —  Sioiin  at  VorHuilh'H  con 
tinuod. —  IIorri)r  ul  Moudon.  —  <,'onfn»ion  ul  Murly       241 


irui  CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  X. 

Page 
Character  of  Monseigneur.  —  Problem  if  he  was  married  to  Mile. 
Choin.  —  Monseigneur 's  private  court.  —  Sketch  aud  projects  of 
the  Duches.se  de  Berry.  —  Portrait  in  brief  of  Monseigneur.  —  His 
obsequies.  —  The  king's  sort  of  grief. — Mile.  Choin;  wisdom  of 
her  conduct  after  Mouseigueur's  death.  — The  Ducliesse  de  Berry 
acknowledges  her  strange  projects. — Submission  and  moderation 
of  the  dauphin.  —  Mantles  and  cloaks  at  Marly.  —  Death  aud 
character  of  the  Duchesse  de  Villeroy.  —  Great  change  at  Court 
on  tlie  death  of  Monseigneur.  —  Mile,  de  I.islebonne.  —  Mme.  la 
Ducliesse.  —  The  Due  de  Beauvilliers  and  Pe'nelon,  Archbishop  of 
Cambrai 268 

CHAPTER  XI. 

The  Due  de  Charost  and  his  mother.  —  Conduct  of  the  Dues  de 
Ciievreuse  aud  Beauvilliers.  —  Concourse  at  Cambrai.  —  M.  le  Dau- 
phin.—  The  ministers  ordered  to  work  with  the  dauphin.  —  The 
dauphin  presented  to  the  clergy  by  tiie  king.  —  Funeral  services  of 
Monseigneur  at  St.  Denis  and  Notre-Dame.  —  Discussions  between 
the  Due  de  Beauvilliers  and  me.  —  Close  union  between  the  three 
couples,  Chevreuse,  Beauvilliers,  and  Saint-Simon.  —  My  sentiments 
on  Jansenism,  Jansenists,  and  Jesuits 297 


INDEX 325 


LIST  OF 
PHOTOGRAVURE   ILLUSTRATIONS. 


Paok 
Louis  XIV Frontispiece 

By  Ri^aud;  in  the  Louvre.  Tliis  portrait  was  painted  for 
Philippe  V.  of  Spain,  but  was  thought  so  good  a  lii^eness  that  the 
king  ordered  a  copy  made  for  tlie  King  of  Spain,  and  placed  the 
original  in  the  throne-room  at  Versailles. 

FRANCOISE-ATHfiNAlS   DE    ROCHECHOUART,  MaEQUISE   DE  MoNTESPAN         31 

By  Van  Loo  (Jacques) ;  in  possession  of  M.  Hermann-Joseph 
Reinach,  Paris. 

Salon  at  Fontainebleau 67 

Alme.  de  Maintenon's  salon,  where  the  king  spent  bis  evenings. 

The  Prince  de  Conti  (Fraxcois-Louis) 100 

Painter  unknown;  from  an  old  engraving  by  Crespy. 

Francoisb  d'Acbigny,  Marquise  de  Maintenon 137 

By  Migiiard;  in  the  Louvre.  This  portrait  was  painted  for  the 
Community  of  Saint-Cyr. 

Francoise-Loijise   de   i,a   Baume-Le  Blanc,   Duciikssk   dk   la 

VALLlfCRK ]f^\ 

By  Mignard;  in  poHsession  of  M.  Ic  Berquier,  PariR. 
MAHiR-ANNr,    DE   BounnoN,   Princk8«k   dk    Covti,   Dauohtfr   or 

Loiim     XIV.    AND     LotllHK     DB     LA    VALLlftltK;      WlFR     OK    T.OIH 
ArMAND,  PlMNfT!    DK    C()\T\ 21  (J 

By  S/iDlnnn  ^Fonii  nii|)ti-(<»);  iil  VriMuillni. 


X  LIST   OF   PHOTOGRAVURE   ILLUSTRATIONS. 

Page 
Boileau-Despeeaox  (N1COLA.S) 231 

By  Santerre ;  in  possession  of  M.  Ner^e-Michel  N^and,  Lyons. 

Louis  de  Fhaxcb,  "  Monseigneub,"  Son  of  Louis  XIV 268 

By  Mignard ;  in  the  Louvre.  This  portrait  is  part  of  a  family 
group,  including  the  Dauphine  Marie-Anne  of  Bavaria  and  their 
three  children,  the  Dues  de  Bourgogne,  d'Anjou,  and  de  Berry. 

T,ocisE  DE  Bourbon,  "  Madame  la  Duchesse,"  Daughter  of  the 
King  and  Mme.  de  Montespan;  Wife  of  Louis  III.,  Prince 
DE  CONDE 291 

By  Largilli^re;  in  possession  of  M.  L.  F.  A.  L.  CoUeson, 
Nancy. 


MEMOIRS 

OF 

THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON. 


I. 

Though  the  time  has  not  yet  come  to  speak  of  the  career 
of  the  Due  d'Orldans,  I  can  no  longer  postpone  relating  the 
g  terms  on  which  I  stood  with  him  since  the  re- 

The  terms  on  ncwal  of  our  intercoursc,  the  manner  of  which 
with'thVouc  ^  ^^^^  already  told  in  its  proper  place.  His 
d'Orieans.  friendship  and  the  confidence  he  placed  in  me 

were  complete ;  I  responded  always  with  the  most  sincere 
attachment.  I  saw  him  nearly  every  afternoon  at  Versailles, 
alone  in  his  entresol.  He  reproached  me  when  chance  made 
my  visits  less  frequent,  and  he  allowed  me  to  speak  to  him 
with  perfect  freedom.  No  subject  escaped  us  ;  he  expressed 
himself  openly  on  all ;  and  he  approved  of  my  hiding  nothing 
from  him  about  himself.  I  never  saw  him  except  at  Ver- 
sailles or  at  Marly ;  that  is  to  say  at  Court ;  and  never  in 
Paris.  Besides  the  fact  that  I  scddom  went  there,  and  then 
only  to  sleep  one  night,  rarely  two,  to  attend  to  my  duties  or 
my  business,  the  life  he  led  in  Paris  did  not  suit  me.  From 
the  first  I  put  myself  on  the  footing  of  liaving  no  intercourse 
with  any  one  at  the  Palais- h'oyal,  nor  with  any  of  the  com- 
panions (»('  hJH  |)l(!asures  or  his  mistresses.  Neither  would  T 
have  any  with  Mun\.  lu   Duche.sHc  d'OrU'ans,  whom   I   never 

TOL.  II.  —  1 


2  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.      [chap.  i. 

saw  except  on  occasions  of  ceremony  or  of  indispensable 
duty,  which  were  rare  and  only  momentary,  and  I  took  no 
part  whatsoever  in  their  houses.  I  believed  that  any  other 
conduct  on  my  part  would  become  a  vexation  to  me,  and 
lead  me  into  trouble ;  for  which  reason  I  would  never  listen 
to  a  word  about  it. 

On  the  evening  when  he  was  appointed  general  for  Italy, 
I  followed  him  from  the  salon  to  his  own  room,  where  we 
talked  long  together.  He  told  me  that  orders  had  been 
despatched  to  Villars,  then  in  Flanders  with  the  reinforce- 
ments he  had  taken  to  Mardchal  de  A^illeroy  (who  did  not 
wait  for  them  before  fighting  his  battle),  to  proceed  at  once 
personally  to  take  command  of  the  army  on  the  Ehine,  and 
also  to  Mar^chal  de  Marsin  to  leave  that  army  and  go,  through 
Switzerland,  to  the  army  of  Italy,  which  he  was  to  command 
under  himself,  which  army  M.  de  Vendome  was  not  to  leave 
until  they  had  both  arrived  and  had  conferred  with  him.  He 
said  he  was  only  appointed  general  on  the  condition,  for  that 
command,  of  doing  nothing  without  Mar^chal  de  Marsin's 
advice,  no  matter  what  happened,  —  a  promise  for  which  the 
king  exacted  his  word  in  appointing  him.  But  he  felt  the  re- 
striction less  than  he  felt  his  joy  in  attainmg,  at  last,  to  what 
he  had  desired  all  his  life,  at  a  moment  when  he  had  long 
ceased  to  hope  for  it,  or  even  to  think  of  it.  M.  le  Prince  de 
Conti  had  controlled  himself,  and  behaved  very  well  through- 
out the  evening.  Mme.  la  Duchesse,  who  was  playing  cards, 
did  not  trouble  herself  to  leave  the  table  to  congratulate  the 
Due  d'Orl^ans  ;  she  merely  called  out  to  him  as  he  went  by 
and  offered  her  compUments  with  a  vexed  air.  He  passed 
without  replying.  The  following  days  he  wanted  me  to  dis- 
cuss a  great  many  things  with  him,  and  received  with  friend- 
ship and  pleasure  all  the  considerations  that  I  offered  to  him, 
explaining  at  great  length  his  instructions  and  his  orders. 


170(5]  MEMOIRS   OF   THE   DUC   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  3 

and  couimanding  me  to  write  to  him  often  and  freely  about 
himself. 

He  had  been  for  a  long  while  in  love  with  Mile,  de  Sdry, 
a  young  girl  of  family,  without  any  property,  pretty,  piquante, 
with  a  lively,  saucy,  capricious,  and  mocking  air,  which  kept 
its  promises  only  too  well.  Mme.  de  Ventadour,  whose  rela- 
tion she  was,  put  her  as  maid  of  honour  with  Madame ;  there 
she  had  a  son  by  M.  d'Orldans.  This  scandal  obliged  her 
to  leave  Madame's  service,  and  the  Due  d'Orl^ans  became 
more  and  more  attached  to  her.  She  was  imperious,  and  she 
made  him  feel  it,  but  that  only  made  him  the  more  in  love, 
and  more  submissive  than  ever.  She  ruled  in  most  things 
at  the  Palais-Eoyal  and  held  a  little  Court  there  ;  Mme.  de 
Ventadour,  with  all  her  profession  of  repentance,  never  ceased 
to  be  closely  allied  with  her,  and  did  not  hide  it.  She  was 
well  advised.  She  seized  this  brilliant  moment  in  the  Due 
d'Orldans'  life  to  get  her  son  by  him  acknowledged  and 
legitimatized.  But  she  did  not  content  herself  with  that. 
She  thought  it  indecent  to  be  publicly  a  mother  and  yet  be 
called  Mademoiselle.  There  was  no  precedent,  however,  by 
which  she  could  be  made  Madame ;  that  is  an  honour  re- 
served to  the  unmarried  daughters  of  France,  and  to  duch- 
esses in  their  own  right.  But  such  obstacles  did  not  stop 
either  the  mistress  or  the  lover.  He  gave  her  the  estate  of 
Argenton,  and  forced  the  kindness  of  the  king,  tliough  with 
great  trouble,  to  grant  htu-  letters  of  patent  in  the  name  of 
Madame  and  (Jomtesse  d'Argenton.  Tlie  thing  was  unheard- 
of.  Difliculties  of  registration  were  feared.  The  Due 
d'Orldans,  on  the  [)oint  of  (k^parture  and  overwhelmed  with 
business,  went  hiniscilf  to  tiu!  lirst  pnisidcnt  and  tht^  pro- 
cureur-g/i'idral.,  and  the  registiaticjii  was  mack*.  His  a|)point 
mont  for  Italy  had  becsn  receivtid  witli  the  utino.st  njiplausc 
both  in  Taris  mid  at  (Jourt.     This  ovouL  reduced  tlie  joy  and 


4  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SEMON.      [chap.  i. 

made  much  talk ;  but  a  man  in  love  thinks  of  nothing  but 
of  how  to  satisfy  his  mistress  and  sacrifice  his  own  interests 
to  hers. 

All  was  planned,  managed,  and  consummated  in  this  affair 
without  a  word  passing  between  him  and  me.  I  was  grieved 
at  the  thing  itself,  and  also  that  he  should  tarnish  his  bril- 
liant departure  by  so  notorious  and  improper  a  singularity. 
But  that  was  all ;  I  was  faithful  to  my  own  determination 
from  the  moment  that  I  renewed  my  intercourse  with  him, 
never  to  speak  to  him  of  his  household,  his  domestic  hfe, 
or  his  mistresses.  He  knew  well  that  I  should  not  approve 
of  what  he  was  doing  for  this  one,  and  he  was  careful  never 
to  open  his  lips  to  me  about  it  at  any  time. 

But  here  is  a  thing  he  told  me  in  a  corner  of  the  salon 
at  Marly,  where  we  were  talking  alone  to  each  other  one 
„.     .        .   .      evening  when  he  had  come  out  from  Paris 

Singular  cunosi-  ^ 

ties  about  the  just  bef orc  lie  Started  for  Italy.  The  singu- 
larity of  this  thing,  verified  by  after  events 
which  he  could  not  possibly  foresee,  induces  me  not  to  omit 
it  here.  He  was  very  eager  about  all  sorts  of  arts  and 
sciences,  and  in  spite  of  his  intelligence  had  the  weakness 
so  common  to  the  descendants  of  Henri  II.,  which  Catherine 
de'  Medici  brought,  among  other  evils,  from  Italy.  He  had 
done  his  best  to  see  the  devil,  without  ever,  as  he  told  me 
himself,  being  able  to  do  so ;  he  desired  to  see  extraorcUnary 
things  and  to  know  the  future.  The  Sery  had  a  little  girl 
of  eight  or  nine  in  her  household,  who  had  never  left  it 
and  had  all  the  simphcity  and  ignorance  of  that  age  and 
that  education.  Among  other  rascals  of  hidden  mysteries, 
of  whom  the  Due  d'Orldans  had  seen  many  in  his  life,  was 
one,  brought  to  him  at  his  mistress's  house,  who  pre- 
tended to  make  anything  a  person  wished  to  know  visible 
in  a  glass  of  water,  only  requiring  a  young  and  innocent 


1706]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  5 

child  or  youth  to  look  into  it.  This  little  girl  was  just  the 
thing.  They  amused  themselves  therefore  by  seeking  to 
know  what  was  happening  at  the  time  in  distant  places,  and 
the  little  girl  looked  and  related  what  she  saw. 

The  dupery  which  the  Due  d'Orldans  had  so  often  ex- 
perienced made  him  seek  an  experiment  which  should 
really  convince  him.  He  ordered  one  of  his  servants  in  a 
whisper  to  go  to  the  house  of  Mme.  de  Nancrd,  a  few  doors 
off,  and  find  out  what  was  going  on  in  her  salon,  and  also 
the  furniture  of  the  room,  and  bring  him  word  instantly 
without  losing  a  moment  or  speaking  to  a  soul.  This  was 
done  in  a  second ;  no  one  noticed  it,  and  the  little  girl  was 
still  in  the  room.  As  soon  as  the  Due  d'Orldans  learned  the 
facts,  he  told  the  little  girl  to  look  in  the  glass  and  tell 
him  what  was  going  on  at  Mme.  de  Nancrd's.  Instantly 
she  related  to  them,  word  for  word,  all  that  the  man  whom 
the  Due  d'Orldans  had  sent  reported  that  he  had  seen, — 
the  description  of  persons,  faces,  dresses,  those  who  were 
playing  at  the  different  tables,  the  arrangement  of  the 
furniture,  in  a  word,  everything.  The  Due  d'Orldans  im- 
mediately sent  Nancrd  himself  to  see  what  was  going  on, 
and  the  latter  stated  that  he  found  everything  as  the  little 
girl  had  said,  and  as  the  valet  had  reported  it  to  the  Due 
d'Orldans  in  a  whisper. 

He  seldom  si)oke  to  me  of  these  things  because  I  took 
the  lib(;rty  to  cry  sliainc  upon  him.  I  took  it  now  about 
this  talc,  and  said  all  1  could  to  deter  him  from  putting 
faith  in  these  deceptions  and  amusing  himself  with  thoin, 
especially  at  a  time  wIhmi  lie  ought  to  have  liia  mind 
occu|)i(;d  with  so  niany  great  matters.  "  Hut  that  is  not 
all,"  he  said;  "  I  have,  only  told  you  that  to  lead  to  tins  rest," 
and  then  he  related  to  nie  how,  enc(juraged  by  tiie  correct- 
ness of  wliat  the  little  girl  hud  seen  in  Mudtunc  do  Nuncrd's 


6  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.    i. 

room,  he  wished  to  know  something  more  important,  and 
to  discover  what  would  happen  on  the  death  of  the  king, 
but  not  the  period  of  it,  which  could  not  be  seen  in  the 
glass.  Accordingly  he  asked  her  this  at  once.  The  little 
girl  had  never  heard  of  Versailles,  or  known  any  one  but 
him  belonging  to  the  Court.  She  looked,  and  then  ex- 
plained to  them  at  great  length  what  she  saw.  She  gave, 
correctly,  a  description  of  the  king's  bedroom  at  Versailles, 
and  of  its  furniture  at  the  time  of  his  death ;  she  described 
him  perfectly  as  he  lay  in  his  bed,  also  all  those  who  stood 
about  him  or  in  the  chamber,  and  particularly  a  httle  child 
wearing  the  Order,  held  by  Mme.  de  Ventadour,  about 
whom  she  exclaimed  because  she  had  seen  her  at  Mile, 
de  Sdry's.  She  described  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  the  sin- 
gular appearance  of  Fagon,  Madame,  Mme.  la  Duchesse 
d'Orl^ans,  Mme.  la  Princesse  de  Conti,  and  she  exclaimed 
at  seeing  M.  le  Due  d'Orldans :  in  a  word,  she  related  to 
them  what  she  saw  of  princes  or  persons  in  waiting,  sei- 
gneurs and  valets.  When  she  had  finished,  the  Due  d'Orl^ans, 
surprised  that  she  had  not  described  Monseigneur,  the 
Due  de  Bourgogne,  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  or  the 
Due  de  Berry,  asked  her  if  she  saw  no  persons  who 
looked  thus  and  so.  She  replied  repeatedly,  no ;  and  then 
told  over  agam  exactly  what  she  saw.  He  could  not  com- 
prehend it,  and  expressed  to  me  his  great  surprise,  trying 
to  find  a  reason.  Events  explained  it.  We  were  then  in 
1706  ;  all  four  were  full  of  life  and  health,  but  all  four  were 
dead  before  the  king. 

This  curiosity  answered,  the  Due  d'Orldans  wished  to 
know  what  was  to  happen  to  himself.  That  could  not  be 
told  in  the  glass.  The  man  who  performed  these  things 
offered  to  show  it  to  him  as  if  pictured  on  the  wall  of  the 
room,  provided  he  would  have  no  fear  at  seeing  himself ;  and 


1700]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUC   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  7 

after  a  quarter  of  an  hour  spent  in  grimacing  before  them 
all,  the  form  of  the  Due  d'Orldans,  dressed  as  he  then  was 
and  of  his  natural  size,  appeared  on  the  wall  like  a  painting, 
with  a  couroniie  ferm.ee,  upon  his  head.  It  was  neither 
the  French,  Spanish,  English,  nor  the  Imperial  crown.  The 
Due  d'Orl^ans,  who  looked  at  it  with  all  his  eyes,  could 
not  imagine  what  it  was,  and  had  never  seen  anything  hke. 
it.  It  had  but  four  arches  and  nothing  at  the  top.  This 
crown  covered  his  head. 

From  this  and  the  preceding  obscurity  I  took  occasion  to 
point  out  to  him  the  emptiness  of  such  curiosity,  and  the 
deceptions  of  the  devil,  which  God  permits  in  order  to 
punish  a  curiosity  which  he  forbids ;  also  the  darkness  and 
nothingness  which  resulted  in  place  of  the  light  and  the 
satisfaction  he  had  looked  for.  He  was  then,  assuredly,  very 
far  from  being  Eegent  of  the  kingdom,  or  from  imagining 
the  possibihty  of  it.  That  was  perhaps  what  the  strange 
couronne  fermee  indicated  to  him.  All  this  happened  in 
Paris  at  the  house  of  his  mistress,  in  presence  of  their  most 
private  circle  the  evening  before  the  day  when  he  related  it 
to  me.  I  thought  it  so  extraordmary  that  I  gave  it  a  place 
here,  not  in  approval  of  it,  but  merely  to  record  it. 

The  Due  d'Orldans  joined  M.  de  Vendome  on  the  Mincio 
July  17,  with  whom  he  conferred  as  much  as  he  could,  but 
The  Due  d'Orie-      nothing  like  as  nnicli  as  he  wished,  and  still 

ans  dissatisfied  i  „        i  mi 

with  the  siege  of  ^^'^^  ^»  "^^ch  as  was  ncccssary.  That  pre- 
Turin-  tended  hero  had  just  made  irreparable  faults. 

The  Due  d'Orlc^ans  on  his  way  had  passed  by  the  siege  of 
Turin,  where  La  Feuillade  receiver  I  liim  magnificently  and 
showed  him  all  tlie  works.  The  prince  was  satisfied  with 
none  of  thoiu.  Thoy  were  attacking  at  a  point  ho  should 
not  have  chosen,  iind  in  tliat  lie  iigrced  with  Catiiiat.  wlio 
know    Turin,    wilJi    \';uihun    who   h:ul    forlilidil    i(,   iind    with 


8  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.      [chap.  i. 

Phdlypeaux  who  had  lived  there  many  years,  —  all  three 
without  consulting  each  other.  The  prince  was  also  dis- 
satisfied with  the  works  themselves ;  and  he  thought  the 
siege  was  advancing  slowly. 

Vendome  having  departed,  the  Due  d'Orldans  was  left  to 
what  was  worse,  the  tutelage  of  Marsin.  After  observing 
the  enemy  for  several  days  he  resolved  to  post  himself 
between  Alexandria  and  Valence  and  prevent  them  from 
crossing  the  Tanaro  [tributary  to  the  Po].  That  passage  was 
the  only  one  by  which  they  could  advance,  and  if  prevented 
they  would  be  forced  to  abandon  the  rehef  of  Tm'in.  The 
prince  proposed  this  to  the  marshal,  but  could  not  persuade 
him  to  it.  As  for  the  reason,  impossible  to  give  it,  for  Marsin 
himself  alleged  none  that  was  apparent.  He  was  mastered 
by  La  Feuillade,  who  wanted  to  keep  the  army  about  him, 
and  Marsin  thought  only  of  satisfying  the  son-in-law  of  the 
all-powerful  minister  of  war.  Marsin  being  unpersuadable, 
the  Due  d'OrMans  was  forced  to  yield,  and  little  by  little 
return  to  Turin  and  join  the  besieging  army. 

The  enemy  approaching  steadily,  the  prince  pressed 
the  marshal  to  leave  the  lines  and  give  battle  to  Prince 
Council  of  war  at  Eug^uc.  Maxsin,  chcckcd  by  La  Feuillade, 
d'Orisans  ceases  replied  that  all  the  prince's  reasons  were 
to  give  orders.  souud,  but  that  the  course  he  proposed  could 
not  be  taken  without  reinforcements.  The  dispute  grew  so 
hot  that  ]\Iarsin  consented  at  last  to  call  a  council  of  war, 
and  all  the  lieutenant-generals  were  summoned.  The  matter 
was  debated  ;  but  La  Feuillade,  the  favourite  son-in-law  of 
a  minister  [Chamillart]  who  was  the  arbiter  of  the  fortunes 
of  all  soldiers,  and  Marsin,  the  depositary  it  was  beheved  of 
the  real  power,  were  followed.  D'Estaing  was  the  only  man 
who  dared  to  speak  out  bravely,  a  fact  the  prince  never  for- 
got.    The  result  of  this  council  was  that  the  Due  d'Orl^ans 


1706]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE  DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  9 

protested  before  all  present  against  the  disasters  which 
must  occur,  declared  that,  being  master  in  nothing,  it  was 
not  just  that  he  should  bear  the  shame  that  the  nation  and 
his  family  were  about  to  incur,  and  called  for  his  post-chaise, 
intending  to  leave  the  army  at  once.  The  most  distinguished 
members  of  the  council  did  all  they  could  to  prevent  this. 
Eecovering  from  his  first  impulse,  and  satisfied  perhaps  to 
have  shown  his  firmness  and  to  have  manifested  strongly 
how  little  the  disasters  that  were  imminent  could  be  imputed 
to  him,  he  consented  to  remain.  But  at  the  same  time,  he 
stated  plainly  that  he  would  have  nothing  further  to  do 
with  the  command  of  the  army.  Such  was  the  state  of 
things  during  the  last  three  days  of  this  disastrous  siege. 
The  Due  d'Orldans,  dismissed  by  himself,  stayed  in  his  own 
quarters,  or  sometimes  rode  about,  and  wrote  strongly  to  the 
king  against  Marsin,  rendering  him  an  exact  report  of  every- 
thing, which  he  made  the  marshal  read,  charging  him  to 
send  it  by  the  first  courier  he  despatched,  as  he  himself 
would  send  none,  being  no  longer  in  command  of  the  army. 
On  the  night  of  the  6th  and  7th  of  September,  the  latter 
being  the  day  of  the  battle,  though  he  refused  to  be  con- 
cerned in  anything,  no  matter  what,  he  was  wakened  to 
receive  a  note,  sent  to  him  by  a  partisan,  containing  infor- 
mation that  Prince  Eug(ine  was  about  to  cross  the  Doire, 
and  intended  to  march  directly  to  the  attack.  In  spite  of 
his  resolution,  the  prince  dressed  in  haste  and  went  him- 
self to  Mardchal  do  Marsin,  whom  he  found  trancjuilly  in  bed, 
showed  him  the  letter,  and  proposed  to  liim  to  marcli  in- 
stantly on  tlie  OMcmy,  attack  them,  and  profit  by  tlieir  sur- 
])risc  and  ii  (lidicull.  Hriciiin  which  Ihcy  iiivd  to  cross.  The 
niurslial  was  iirunovable.  lie  niuintaiued  that  the  infor- 
mation wan  fa1s(^  tliiit  IM'inco  l*lng(Nno  could  not  arrive  ho 
quickly,  and  advised  tlic.   Due  d'(.)rl(iaus  to  go  buck  to  bod, 


10  MEMOIRS  OF   THE  DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.       [chap.  i. 

refusing  to  give  the  slightest  order.  The  prince,  more 
affronted  and  disgusted  than  ever,  retired  to  liis  own  quar- 
ters, firmly  resolved  to  leave  everytliing  to  the  deaf  and 
blind  fools  who  would  neither  hear  nor  see  anything. 

Shortly  after  his  return  to  his  room,  information  arrived 
from  all  quarters  of  Prince  Eugene's  approach.  He  did 
not  stir.  D'Estaing  and  some  other  generals  came  to  him 
and  forced  him,  in  spite  of  himself,  to  mount  his  horse.  He 
rode  carelessly,  at  a  slow  pace,  across  the  head  of  the  camp. 
All  that  had  happened  during  the  last  few  days  had  made 
too  much  commotion  for  the  army,  even  the  private  sol- 
diers, not  to  hear  of  it.  His  rank,  the  correctness  and 
firmness  of  his  views,  of  which  old  soldiers  are  not  incapable 
of  being  good  judges,  especially  some  among  them  who  re- 
membered what  they  had  seen  him  do  at  Leuze,  Steinkerke, 
and  at  Neerwinden,  —  all  this  made  them  murmur  at  the 
thought  that  he  was  no  longer  willing  to  command  the  army. 
As  he  rode  along  in  this  manner  across  the  line  of  camps, 
a  Piedmontese  soldier  called  out  to  him  by  name,  and  asked 
if  he  refused  them  his  sword.  Those  words  did  more  than 
all  the  general  ofl&cers  had  been  able  to  do  with  him.  He 
replied  to  the  soldier  that  he  asked  it  with  too  much  reason 
to  be  refused,  and  instantly  crushing  underfoot  all  his  just 
and  keen  resentment,  he  thought  only  of  helping  Marsin  and 
La  Eeuillade  in  spite  of  themselves. 

I  had  gone  to  spend  a  month  at  La  Fertd,  where  I  re- 
ceived the  news  from  Italy  which  the  Due  d'Orldans  was 
Singular  rapidity      carcful  to  scud  uic,  together  with  letters  in 

with  which  I  hear      ■■•  i  ,..  ,  ,  ,.,  ., 

of  the  disasters  ^^'^  0'^'*'^  hand^vrltmg  when  he  did  not  wish 
before  Turin.  what  lie  said  to  me  to  go  through  others.     I 

was  therefore  fully  informed  as  to  the  disasters  that  were 
being  prepared  for  us,  and  very  uneasy,  when  a  gentleman, 
arriving  from  Eouen  at  his  brother's  house,  which  was  near 


1707]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DK   SAINT-SIMON.  11 

mine,  met  us  as  we  were  walking  in  the  park,  Mme.  de  Saint- 
Simon  and  I,  with  some  company,  and  told  us  of  the  disaster 
at  Turin,  with  the  exact  particulars  about  the  Due  d'Orl^ans, 
]\Iar^chal  Marsin,  and  all  the  rest  of  it,  exactly  as  the  king 
heard  it  three  days  later  by  the  courier  who  brought  the 
news  (and  I,  four  days  later,  from  the  Court  and  by  my 
letters  which  came  from  Paris).  We  have  never  been  able 
to  comprehend  how  it  was  that  this  sad  news  should  have 
been  brought  with  such  extreme,  not  to  say  incredible  rapid- 
ity ;  the  gentleman  told  us  nothing  except  that  the  accuracy 
of  the  news  could  be  relied  on,  and  we  never  saw  him  again, 
to  ask  him  how  he  obtained  it,  for  he  died  soon  after.  I 
was  deeply  grieved  that  these  misfortunes  should  happen 
to  us  under  the  hand  of  the  Due  d'Orldans,  although  he 
was  so  perfectly  innocent  of  them.  Fever  seized  me,  and 
I  went  to  Paris;  not  stopping  at  Versailles,  in  order  to 
escape  the  tyranny  of  its  Faculty. 

The  urgent  condition  of  affairs,  which  greatly  increased 
the  war  expenses  by  our  losses  of  troops  and  territory,  had 
1707.  obliged  the  king  for  two  or  three  years  past  to 

Retrenchments,  diminish,  and  then  to  curtail,  the  New  Year's 
gifts  that  he  always  gave  to  the  sons  and  daughters  of  France, 
which  amounted  to  a  very  large  sum.  The  royal  treasury 
always  brought  him  at  the  first  of  every  year,  for  his  own  use, 
thirty-five  thousand  louis-d'or,  no  matter  what  their  current 
value  might  be.  Tliis  year,  1 707,  he  retrenched  that  sum  by 
ten  thousand.  The  burden  of  this  economy  fell  on  Mme. 
de  Montespan.  Ever  since  she  harl  left  the  Court  forever, 
the  king  gave  her  twelve  thousand  louis-d'or  every  year;  D'O 
was  employed  to  take  her  three  thousand  every  three  months. 
But  this  year  the  king  s(!nt  her  word  by  tlio  same  means 
that  he  coidd  not  give;  h(;r  iiion^  thiiii  (sight  thousand.  Mnic. 
de  Montespan  exi)reHnud  not   the  .slightest  aunoyauco;   sho 


12  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.       [chaf.  i. 

merely  replied  that  she  was  sorry  for  the  poor ;  to  whom,  in 
fact,  she  gave  profusely.  Mgr.  le  Due  de  Bourgogne,  who  had 
lately  sold  the  jewels  that  he  inherited  from  his  mother,  the 
late  dauphine  (and  he  had  a  great  many),  had  also  given  all 
their  proceeds  to  the  poor. 

Mme.  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  gave  birth  to  a  second 
Due  de  Bretagne  [the  first  having  died  in  April,  1705],  most 
Birth  of  the  second    happily  and  quickly,  on  Saturday,  January  8, 

Due  de  Bretagne.       ^    ^^^j^     ^^^^^^       •    ,         -^    ^       momiug.        The 

public  joy  was  great;  but  the  king,  who  had  already  lost 
one  grandson,  forbade  the  expenses  which  w^ere  incurred  at 
the  first  birth,  the  amount  of  which  was  enormous.  He 
wrote  to  the  Due  de  Savoie  to  announce  the  event,  in  spite 
of  the  war  and  his  grounds  for  displeasure,  and  received 
a  reply  of  thanks  and  mutual  rejoicing. 

About  this  time  there  died  an  old  bishop  who  had 
neglected  nothing  to  make  himself  a  fortune  and  be  a  per- 
Deathofthe  souagc.     This   was  Eoqucttc,  a  man  of  small 

Bishop  of  Autun.  beginnings,  who  had  caught  the  bishopric  of 
Autun,  and  in  the  end,  not  being  able  to  do  better,  gov- 
erned, by  dint  of  suppleness  and  manoeuvres  around  M.  le 
Prince,  the  districts  of  Bourgogne.  He  had  been  of  all 
colours,  —  devoted  to  Mme.  de  Longueville,  to  her  brother 
the  Prince  de  Conti,  to  Cardinal  Mazarin,  and,  above  all, 
given  over  to  the  Jesuits.  All  sugar  and  honey;  intimate 
with  the  most  important  women  of  those  times ;  into  all 
intrigues;  and,  with  it  all,  of  the  greatest  piety.  It  was 
from  him  that  Molifere  took  his  Tartuffe ;  no  one  failed  to 
recognize  him.  The  archbishop  of  Keims,  passing  through 
Autun,  admired  his  magnificent  buffet.  "  You  see  there,"  he 
replied,  "  the  food  of  the  poor."  "  It  seems  to  me,"  said  the 
archbishop,  gruffly,  "  you  might  have  given  them  the  cost  of 
that  carving."     He  pocketed  such  affronts  without  blinking ; 


1707]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  13 

in  fact,  he  was  more  obsequious  to  those  who  gave  them; 
but  for  all  that  lie  pursued  his  ends  without  ever  turning 
a  step  aside.  In  spite  of  all  he  could  do,  however,  he 
remamed  at  Autun,  and  never  made  more  of  a  fortune. 
Towards  the  end,  he  paid  much  court  to  the  King  and 
Queen  of  England.  All  was  good  to  his  muid  where  he 
saw  'hopes  and  could  thrust  himself  and  squirm.  M. 
d' Autun,  to  finish  him  with  a  last  touch,  had  a  lachrymal 
fistula.  Shortly  after  the  death  of  the  King  of  England, 
he  pretended  to  have  been  miraculously  cured  by  his  in- 
tercession. He  went  to  tell  this  to  the  Queen  of  England, 
to  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  and  to  the  king.  In  fact,  the  eye 
did  appear  different.  But  a  few  days  later  it  returned  to 
its  usual  condition,  and  the  fistula  could  no  longer  be 
hidden.  He  was  so  ashamed  of  the  failure  of  this  hoax 
that  he  fled  to  his  diocese  and  seldom  appeared  again. 

The  king  now  appointed  the  generals  and  the  general 
officers  to  the  armies,  Mar^chal  Tess^  was  named  in  the 
The  generals  beginning  of  February  for  the  command  of 
appointed  to  the     the  army  ordered    to  return  to  Italv,    Mard- 

armies. 

chal  de  Villars  to  the  army  of  the  Rhine,  and 
M.  de  Vendome  to  that  of  Flanders  under  the  Elector  of 
Bavaria.  The  Mardchal  de  Berwick  remained  in  Spain. 
M.  le  Due  d'Orldans,  not  wishing  to  be  left  with  the  bad 
taste  of  Italy  in  his  mouth,  and  seeing  but  little  chance 
of  taking  an  army  there,  desired  and  obtained  permission 
to  go  to  Spain.  Tlie  fiital  experience  the  prince  had  liad 
with  Marechal  de  Marsin  made  the  king  give  him  absolute 
authority,  at  the  expense  of  the  Due  d(?  Berwick.  It  was 
a  great  joy  to  the  prince  to  continue  in  the  command  of 
an  army,  and  actually  to  command  it,  not  as  a  (iguro-homl, 
but  as  a  reality,  lie.  l)egan  his  preparations  at  once.  The 
king    asked    him    wboni    \u\    inlcndcil    to  take    willt    him. 


14  MEMOIRS  OF   THE   DUC   DE  SAINT-SIMON.      [chap.  i. 

Among  others  the  duke  named  Fontpertuis.  "  What ! 
nephew,"  said  the  king,  much  stirred,  "  the  son  of  that 
crazy  woman  who  ran  after  M.  Arnauld  everywhere,  —  a 
Jansenist !  I  will  not  have  him  with  you."  "  Upon  my 
word,  sire,"  replied  M.  d'Orldans,  "  I  don't  know  what  the 
mother  did,  but  as  for  the  son,  a  Jansenist  indeed !  Why, 
he  does  n't  believe  in  God ! "  "  Is  that  possible  ?  "  said  the 
king ;  "  are  you  sure  ?  If  that  is  so,  there  is  no  harm,  and  you 
can  take  him."  The  same  afternoon  M.  d'Orl^ans,  splitting 
with  laughter,  told  me  the  story.  That  is  where  ■  the  king 
had  been  led !  —  actually  to  see  no  comparison  between 
being  a  Jansenist  and  having  no  religion,  and  to  prefer  the 
latter.  The  Due  d'Orldans  thought  the  story  so  amusing 
he  could  not  hold  his  tongue  about  it;  people  laughed 
much  both  at  Court  and  in  Paris,  and  the  freest  thinkers 
admired  the  blindness  into  which  the  Jesuits  and  the 
Sulpicians  could  drive  a  mind.  The  story  went  the  rounds 
everywhere  and  the  wonder  is  that  the  king  was  not  angrj'. 
But  it  showed  his  attachment  to  sound  doctrine  and  his 
ever-increasing  aversion  to  Jansenism.  Most  persons  laughed 
over  it  with  all  their  hearts,  but  some,  who  were  wiser, 
were  more  inclined  to  weep  than  to  laugh,  reflecting  sadly 
to  what  an  extreme  of  blindness  the  king  had  been  led.  This 
Fontpertuis  was  a  great  scamp;  friend  in  debauchery  of 
M.  de  Donzi,  afterwards  Due  de  Nevers,  and  a  very  fine 
tennis-player.  The  Due  d'Orl^ans  was  fond  of  tennis  ;  and 
Donzi  presented  to  him  Fontpertuis,  to  whom  he  took  a 
liking.  Long  afterwards,  during  the  Regency,  he  gave  him 
the  means  of  winning  fortune  out  of  the  too  famous 
Mississippi,  always  in  concert  with  the  Due  de  Nevers. 
But  when  the  two  became  gorged  with  millions  (Fontpertuis 
out  of  all  proportion  to  the  other)  they  quarrelled,  said 
dire  things  of  each  other,  and  never  met   again. 


1707]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  15 

Cliamillart,  overwhelmed  with  the  double  labour  of  the 
war  and  the  tiiiances,  had  time  neither  to  eat  nor  sleep. 
Condition  of  Aimles  destroyed  in  nearly  all  the  campaigns 

the  finances.  jjy   battles   lost,   frontiers    suddenly   and   ex- 

tensively driven  in,  through  the  bewildered  heads  of 
unhappy  generals,  had  exhausted  all  the  resources  of  men 
and  money.  The  minister,  at  an  end  of  his  means  for 
seeking  either,  vmable  to  meet  even  current  expenses,  had 
more  than  once  represented  his  inability  to  suffice  for  the 
two  employments,  which  in  the  best  of  times  would  have 
required  all  the  efforts  of  two  strong  men.  The  king,  who 
had  put  the  two  offices  upon  him  in  order  to  shelter  him- 
self from  the  contentions  between  the  ministries  of  war 
and  of  finance  which  had  wearied  him  in  the  days  of 
MM.  Colbert  and  Louvois,  could  not  bring  himself  to  relieve 
Chamillart  of  the  finances.  The  latter  made  a  virtue  of 
necessity,  but,  in  the  end,  the  machine  succumbed.  He 
began  to  have  nervous  fancies,  giddiness,  faintings.  Every- 
thing went  to  his  head.  He  could  not  digest  liis  food.  He 
grew  visibly  thinner.  Still,  the  wheel  was  forced  to  go 
round  without  interruption,  and,  in  fact,  in  the  present  con- 
tingencies there  was  none  but  he  who  could  make  it  turn. 

He  wrote  the  king  a  pathetic  letter,  asking  to  be  relieved. 
In  it  he  hid  nothing  from  him  as  to  the  sad  condition  of 
affairs  and  the  impossibility  he  felt,  for  want  of  time  and 
health,  to  remedy  it.  He  reminded  him  of  tlie  many  times 
and  tin;  many  occasions  when  he  liad  shown  him  tlie  truth 
by  abridged  reports  ;  he  called  his  attention  once  more  to 
the  urgent  and  multifarious  cases  which  were  pressing  cue 
upon  another,  each  demanding  a  long,  studious,  continued, 
and  assiduous  labour,  on  whicli,  ov(!n  if  his  health  had 
allowed  it,  the  multitude  of  his  occupation.s,  all  indispen- 
sable, loft  him  not  one  hour  to  bestow.     The  letter  ended 


16  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  i. 

by  saying  that  he  should  ill  repay  the  king's  kindness  and 
confidence  if  he  did  not  tell  him  that  all  would  perish  if 
the  remedy  of  dismissing  him  were  not  applied. 

In  writing  to  the  king  he  always  left  broad  margins,  on 
which  the  king  made  comments  in  his  own  handwriting,  and 
returned  the  letters.  Chamillart  showed  me  this  one  when 
it  came  back  to  him,  and  I  saw  with  great  surprise  these 
words  in  the  king's  handwriting  at  the  end  of  a  brief  note : 
"  Well,  then  !  we  will  perish  together  !  " 

Chamillart  was  equally  gratified  and  distressed ;  but  the 
words  did  not  give  him  back  his  strength.  He  failed  to 
attend  the  councils,  especially  that  of  the  despatches,  when- 
ever he  could  avoid  reporting  to  them.  Usually  the  kiag 
allowed  him  to  speak  first,  and  as  soon  as  he  had  done  so  he 
went  away,  —  the  reason  being  that  he  could  not  stand  ;  at 
the  council  of  despatches  all  the  secretaries  and  the  minis- 
ters remain  on  their  feet  as  long  as  it  lasts ;  at  the  other 
councils  they  are  permitted  to  sit  down. 

The  necessities  of  public  business  compelled  the  adoption 
of  all  sorts  of  means  to  obtain  money.  Contractors  profited 
by  these  necessities  to  extort  enormously;  the  parhaments 
had  long  been  in  no  condition  to  dare  to  remonstrate.  A 
tax  was  now  imposed  upon  baptisms,  and  another  on  mar- 
riages, without  the  slightest  respect  for  religion  or  the  sacra- 
ments, and  with  no  consideration  whatever  for  all  that  is 
most  indispensable  to  civil  society.  This  edict  was  ex- 
tremely onerous  and  odious.  The  consequences,  and  they 
came  quickly,  produced  a  strange  confusion.  The  poor  and 
many  of  the  smaller  people  baptized  their  children  them- 
selves without  taking  them  to  church ;  and  they  married 
each  other  beneath  the  chimney-piece  by  reciprocal  con- 
sent in  presence  of  witnesses,  when  they  could  not  find  a 
priest  who  would  marry  them  at  home  and  without  formah- 


1707]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  17 

ties.  Hence  confusion  in  baptismal  registers ;  no  certainty  as 
to  baptisms,  consequently  as  to  births ;  no  assured  position 
for  the  children  of  such  marriages.  Eigorous  search  was 
made  against  this  very  prejudicial  abuse;  that  is  to  say, 
inquisitorial  efforts  and  harshness  were  employed  to  enforce 
the  tax. 

Public  outcries  and  murmurs  passed  into  sedition  in  many 
places.  In  Cahors  it  went  so  far  that  two  battalions  which 
were  stationed  there  could  scarcely  prevent  the  peasantry 
from  seizing  the  town ;  and  it  was  necessary  to  employ  the 
troops  who  were  under  orders  for  Spain,  which  delayed  the 
Due  d'Orleans'  departure.  In  Pdrigord  all  the  peasantry 
rose,  pillaged  the  government  bureaus,  made  themselves 
masters  of  a  little  town  and  several  chateaux,  and  forced 
some  of  the  gentlemen  to  put  themselves  at  their  head. 
They  declared  openly  that  they  would  pay  the  taille  and 
the  poU-tax,  the  tithe  to  their  rectors,  the  dues  to  their  sei- 
gneurs, but  that  they  could  not  pay  more  ;  neither  would  they 
listen  to  any  further  taxes  or  vexations.  In  the  end  it  be- 
came necessary  to  drop  this  decree  of  taxation  on  baptisms 
and  marriages,  to  the  great  regret  of  contractors,  who  en- 
riched themselves  cruelly  by  the  multitude  of  these  vexatious 
exactions,  as  well  as  by  their  own  cheatery. 

We  have  already  seen  how  Mar(ichal  Yauban  proposed  to 
relieve  the  people  from  vexatious  taxation.  Let  us  here  do 
justice  to  the  integrity  and  good  intentions  of  Chamillart. 
In  spite  of  his  dislike,  ho  was  willing  to  make  trial  of  those 
new  means.  It  resulted,  howev(ir,  that  what  ho  did  with 
a  good  intention  turned  to  poison,  and  gave  new  strength 
to  tlio  enoiuies  of  tlie  systcni  ;  lor  i\w  awakening  he  udw 
gave  to  the  "royal  titlu; "  was  not  forgotten,  and  soiuo 
time  later,  instead  of  ciriiiloying  it  as  the  only  tax  (ac- 
cording to    Mardchal   Vauban's   proposed   system),   it  was 


18  MEMOIRS  OF   THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  i. 

imposed,  as  we  shall  see,  on  all  property  of  all  kinds  in 
addition  to  the  other  taxes,  and  was  renewed  on  the  occa- 
sion of  every  war.  In  fact,  in  times  of  peace  the  king  has 
still  retained  his  tithe  on  all  salaries,  wages,  and  pensions. 
That  is  how  France  has  guarded  the  most  sacred  and  useful 
intentions,  and  how  it  has  suffered  the  stream  of  good  to  be 
diied  at  its  source.  Who  could  have  told  Mar^chal  Vauban 
that  his  labour  for  the  relief  of  all  who  inhabit  France  would 
solely  have  served,  and  ended  in,  a  new  and  additional  tax, 
harder,  more  permanent,  more  onerous  than  all  the  rest  ?  It 
is  a  terrible  lesson,  calculated  to  stop  the  wisest  proposals  in 
the  matter  of  taxation  and  finance. 

An  event  as  strange  as  it  was  singular  caused  the  king 
much  anxiety  and  put  both  the  Court  and  city  in  a  ferment. 
The  king's  On  Thursday,  March  7,  Beringhen,  first  equerry, 

^rrdTtSe'nl  l^a^^i^g  foll'^^^ed  the  king  on  his  drive  to 
of  the  enemy.  ]\Iarly,  and  returned  with  him  to  Versailles, 
started  at  seven  o'clock  in  the  evening  for  Paris,  alone  in 
his  carriage,  —  that  is  to  say,  in  one  of  the  king's  carriages,  — 
two  of  the  king's  outriders  behind,  and  a  groom  carrpng 
a  torch  before  him  on  the  seventh  horse.  He  was  stopped 
on  the  plain  of  Bissancourt,  between  a  farmhouse  by  the 
roadside,  not  far  from  the  bridge  of  Sevres,  and  a  tavern 
called  the  Point-du-Jour.  Fifteen  or  sixteen  men  on 
horseback  surrounded  the  carriage  and  carried  him  off. 
The  coachman  immediately  turned  round  and  drove  back, 
with  the  outriders,  to  Versailles,  where  the  king  was  in- 
formed the  instant  that  they  arrived  of  what  had  happened. 
He  sent  orders  to  the  four  secretaries  of  State,  who  were 
at  Versailles,  I'^fitang,  and  Paris,  to  despatch  couriers  every- 
where along  the  frontier,  warning  the  commanders  to  watch 
the  fords,  because  it  was  known  that  a  detachment  of  the 
enemy  had  entered  Artois,  from  which  they  had  not  retired. 


1707]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  19 

It  seemed  at  (irst  impossible  to  believe  that  this  could 
be  the  enemy  ;  but  the  reflection  that  the  first  equerry  had 
no  personal  enmities,  that  he  was  not  a  man  with  a  reputa- 
tion for  money  from  whom  a  ransom  could  be  hoped,  and 
that  an  incident  of  this  kind  had  never  happened  except 
to  great  financiers,  made  every  one  at  last  accept  the  belief 
that  it  was  really  a  detachment  of  the  enemy.  And  so  it 
])roved.  One  Gueteni,  violinist  to  the  Elector  of  Bavaria, 
had  entered  the  army  of  the  allies  during  the  last  war,  be- 
coming a  very  good  and  very  bold  officer  on  outpost  duty. 
In  this  way  he  rose  to  be  a  colonel  in  the  Dutch  army. 
Talking  one  evening  with  his  comrades,  he  made  a  bet  that 
he  would  carry  off  some  one  of  mark  between  Paris  and 
Versailles.  He  obtained  a  pass  from  the  enemy's  generals, 
and  thirty  picked  men,  nearly  aU  officers.  They  crossed 
the  rivers  disguised  as  merchants,  which  enabled  them  to 
post  their  relays.  Several  of  them  stayed  eight  and  ten 
days  at  Sevres,  Saint-Cloud,  and  Boulogne ;  some  had  the 
boldness  to  go  to  Versailles  and  see  the  king  at  supper. 
One  of  the  latter  was  captured  the  next  day,  and  answered 
(Jliamillart,  who  questioned  him,  very  insolently.  ■  One  of 
the  guards  of  M.  le  Prince  caught  another  in  the  forest 
of  Chantilly,  from  whom  it  was  learned  that  they  kept  a 
relay  and  a  post-chaise  at  Morlifere  for  the  prisoner ;  but 
by  the  time  this  was  known  they  had  already  put  him  into 
it,  and  crossed  the  Oise. 

The  blund(!r  tliey  made  was  in  not  carrying  off  the  car- 
riage with  Beringhen  in  it  as  far  as  they  could  under  favour 
of  the  darkness,  thus  dcdaying  the  knowlcidgi!  of  his  cap- 
ture, and  also  sparing  him  ])iitl  oF  (he  mad  on  horse- 
l)a(k  and  ho  gaitiing  more  time  for  their  retreat.  Instead  of 
that,  they  fatigued  him  too  much  at  the  trot  and  gallop. 
It  Hoerns  tliat  they  had  hi  tlie  uhuncellor  go  by  them,  not 


20  MEMOIES  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.       [chap.  i. 

daring  to  stop  him  in  open  day ;  and  after  dark  they  missed 
the  Due  d'Orl^ans,  despising  his  common  post-chaise.  Tired 
of  waiting  and  fearing  to  attract  notice,  they  threw  them- 
selves on  the  next  carriage,  and  thought  they  had  done 
wonders  when  they  saw  by  the  light  of  the  groom's  torch 
the  carriage  and  liveries  of  the  king,  with  a  man  inside 
wearing  a  blue  ribbon  across  his  doublet  —  which  is  always 
worn  by  the  first  equeny^. 

He  was  not  long  in  their  hands  before  he  found  out 
who  they  were,  and  also  let  them  know  what  he  was 
himself.  Guetem  showed  him  every  sort  of  respect  and  a 
friendly  desire  to  spare  him  fatigue  as  much  as  possible. 
He  even  carried  this  desire  so  far  that  it  caused  the  failure 
of  his  raid.  He  allowed  Beringhen  to  stop  and  rest  twice, 
and  so  missed  one  of  their  relays,  which  retarded  them 
much.  Besides  the  couriers  despatched  to  the  frontiers, 
others  had  been  sent  to  the  intendants,  and  to  the  troops 
in  quarters ;  also  a  detachment  of  the  Idng's  guards  was 
sent  after  them,  and  the  entire  "little  stable"  force,  by 
whom  M.  le  Premier  was  much  beloved,  scattered  them- 
selves over  the  country  in  all  directions.  Still,  no  matter 
what  care  was  taken  in  guarding  the  fords,  the  party  had 
crossed  the  Somme  and  was  four  leagues  beyond  Ham,  the 
prisoner  being  guarded  by  three  officers,  on  his  parole  to 
make  no  effort  to  escape  (the  rest  having  gone  off  in  search 
of  a  relay),  when  a  cavalry  sergeant  came  upon  them,  fol- 
lowed at  a  little  distance  by  a  detachment  of  the  regiment 
of  Livry,  and  soon  after  by  another ;  so  that  Guetem,  find- 
ing himself  the  weaker  party,  surrendered  and  became  the 
prisoner  of  his  prisoner. 

Beringhen,  dehghted  at  his  rescue,  and  very^  grateful  to 
have  been  so  well  treated,  carried  his  prisoners  to  Ham, 
where   he   rested   a   whole   day  and  treated   them,  in   his 


1707]  MEMOIRS   OF   THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  21 

turn,  to  the  best.  He  sent  a  courier  to  his  wife  and  to 
Chamillart.  The  king,  much  relieved,  read  aloud  at  supper 
the  letters  he  had  written.  On  the  29th  of  March  Beringhen 
reached  Versailles  about  eight  in  the  evening  and  went 
straight  to  Mme.  de  Maintenon's  apartment,  where  the 
king  received  him  well  and  made  him  tell  his  adventures. 
Though  the  king  had  a  great  regard  for  his  equerry,  he 
nevertheless  did  not  like  that  the  "  little  stable "  should 
make  a  fete  of  his  return,  for  which  fireworks  had  been 
prepared.  He  sent  word  to  forbid  all  such  signs  of  rejoic- 
ing, and  the  fireworks  were  not  let  off.  The  king  was  full 
of  such  petty  jealousies ;  he  wanted  all  things  to  be  devoted 
to  himself,  without  participators. 

Berincrhen  had  sent  Guetem  and  his  officers  to  his  own 
house  in  Paris  to  await  the  orders  of  the  king ;  where  they 
were  treated  very  much  above  their  station.  Beringhen 
obtained  permission  for  Guetem  to  see  the  king  at  the  usual 
review  which  he  always  made  of  his  household  troops  at 
Marly  before  the  opening  of  the  campaign.  The  equerry 
did  more;  he  presented  Guetem  to  the  king,  who  praised 
him  for  having  treated  Beringhen  so  well,  adding  that  war 
should  always  be  conducted  honourably.  Guetem,  who  had 
his  wits  about  him,  replied  tliat  he  was  so  surprised  to  find 
himself  in  presence  of  the  greatest  king  in  the  world,  who 
did  him  the  li<jnour  to  speak  with  him,  that  he  had  not  tlie 
power  to  answer.  He  stayed  ten  or  twelve  days  with  Be- 
ringlic.n  in  order  to  see  Paris,  and  was  taken  to  the  Opera 
and  (Joniedy,  where  he  himself  was  the  greatest  sight  of  all. 
People  Hocked  to  see  him ;  and  even  tlie  nmst  distinguished 
persons  were  not  ashamed  to  applaud  him  for  an  net  of 
temerity  which  might  he  called  inHolciiL  lU'riiighcii  gave 
dinners  for  iiini,  and  siipijlicd  him  with  carriage's  and  ser- 
vants to  take  hiui  overywhcn^,  and,  at  parting,  with  a  cou- 


22  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.       [chap.  i. 

siderable  sum  of  money  and  other  gifts.  After  that  Guetem 
went  off  on  parole  to  Eeims,  where  he  joined  his  comrades 
and  waited,  with  the  town  for  their  prison,  until  they  were 
exchanged.  Their  real  project  was  nothing  less  than  to 
carry  off  Monseigneur  or  one  of   his  sons. 

This  ridiculous  adventure  gave  rise  to  precautions  which 
were,  in  the  first  mstance,  excessive,  and  made  all  communi- 
cation and  commerce  by  fords  and  bridges  most  harassing. 
It  was  also  the  cause  of  a  great  many  persons  being  arrested. 
The  hunting-parties  of  the  princes  became  for  a  short  time 
very  restricted,  until,  little  by  Httle,  matters  returned  to 
their  usual  course.  But  it  was  not  a  little  amusing  to  see 
during  this  period  of  alarm  the  fright  of  the  ladies,  and  even 
that  of  some  of  the  men  about  the  Court,  who  dared  no 
longer  walk  out  between  two  suns,  and  when  they  did  so 
by  daylight  had  little  comfort,  imagining  facilities  for  their 
capture  at  every  step. 

Before  proceeding  to  other  matters  I  remind  myself  that 
I  have  not  yet  spoken  of  what  was  called  at  Court  the 
" Parvuio  ••  parvulo  of  Mcudou  ;   and  it  is   necessary   to 

de  Meudon.  explain  that  figure  of  speech  for  the  understand- 

ing of  many  things  which  I  shall  have  to  relate.  I  have 
already  told  how  and  why  the  Princesse  de  Conti  dismissed 
Mile.  Chom,  who  the  latter  was,  who  were  her  friends,  and 
the  attachment  Monseigneur  felt  for  her.  This  attachment 
was  only  increased  by  her  dismissal  and  the  consequent  diffi- 
culty of  seeing  each  other.  Mme.  de  Lislebonne  and  her 
two  daughters  were  alone  in  the  secret,  notwithstanding 
what  they  owed  to  the  Princesse  de  Conti.  They  fomented 
Monseigneur's  attachment,  which  secured  to  them  a  confi- 
dence from  which  they  proposed  to  derive  great  things  in 
the  future. 

Mile.  Choin  retired  from  Versailles  to  Paris,  to  the  house 


1707]  JfEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  23 

of  Lacroix,  her  relation,  a  receiver-general  of  the  finances, 
near  the  Petit  Saiut-Antoine,  where  she  lived  in  great 
secrecy.  She  was  notified  of  the  few  days  when  Mon- 
seigneur  went  out  to  Meudon  to  attend  to  his  building  or 
planting,  and  always  went  there  herself  over-night  in  a 
hired  carriage;  passing  through  the  courtyards  on  foot,  ill- 
dressed,  like  any  common  woman  on  her  way  to  see  a  ser- 
vant at  Meudon.  There  she  entered  by  the  back  way  the 
apartment  of  Mouseigneur  in  the  entresol,  where  he  met  her 
the  next  day  and  spent  several  hours  with  her.  She  con- 
tinued to  do  this  for  a  long  time,  taking  a  waiting-maid  with 
her,  her  bundle  m  her  pocket,  and  always  going  the  night 
before  Monseigneur  went  to  Meudon.  She  stayed  there, 
shut  up  with  her  maid,  without  seeing  a  soul  but  himself ; 
and  she  never  left  the  entresol,  where  one  of  the  servants, 
the  only  one  in  Monseigneur's  confidence,  brought  her  food. 
She  was  a  stout,  squat  girl,  dark,  ugly,  with  a  flat  nose,  but 
intelligent,  with  a  spirit  for  intrigue  and  manceuvriug. 

Before  long,  Du  Mont,  Monseigneur's  equerry  and  most 
confidential  follower,  was  allowed  to  see  her;^  next,  the 
daughters  of  Mme.  de  Lislebonne,  when  ladies  accompanied 
Monseigneur  to  ]\Ieudon.  Little  by  little  the  circle  en- 
larged ;  intimate  courtiers  were  first  admitted  :  Sainte-Maure, 
the  Comte  de  Ivoucy,  Biron ;  then  a  few  others  and  two  or 
three  ladies.  After  a  while  M.  le  Due  de  Bourgogne  and 
M.  le  Due  de  Berry,  and  ahnost  immediately  after  them 
Mme.  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  were  invited  to  the  entresol, 
and  this  before  long  made  tlie  plot  of  the  comedy.  The 
Due  de  Noailles  and  his  sisters  were  admitted.    Monseigneur 

■  I)u  MdiiI'h  fatlicr  owed  the  licfjimiiii^'H  of  liiw  fortune  to  my  fatlicr. 
Th(!  HOM,  in  all  Ium  riH(s  novcr  for|;;ot  what  my  fatlicr  had  done  for  his  ;  hi> 
oflon  talked  of  it;  ]n'  (laid  Imh  memory  all  Korts  of  rcHpect  ;  and  he  eiune 
to  tn»!  al)fnit  every thin(j:  and  for  everylhiii|.f,  with  reMpcet  and  friendship; 
wliich  hitd  many  ciirioiiM  retmltN  in  the  end, 


24  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.       [chap.  i. 

often  went  to  dine  alone  with  Mme.  de  Lislebonne's  daugh- 
ters, or  with  them  and  Mme.  la  Duchesse  and  certain 
privileged  men  and  women,  but  always  with  the  same  air  of 
mystery;  and  it  was  these  secret  gatherings,  which  soon 
became  pretty  frequent,  which  were  called  at  court  les 
parvulo  de  Meudon. 

By  this  time  Mile.  Choin  no  longer  occupied  the  entresol 
She  slept  in  the  bed  and  the  grand  apartment  occupied  by 
the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  when  the  king  went  to  Meudon. 
She  was  always  seated  in  an  armchair  in  presence  of  Mon- 
seigneur,  while  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  had  a  stool. 
Mile.  Choia  never  rose  to  receive  her,  and  behaved  to  her 
exactly  as  did  IMme.  de  Maintenon,  except  that  she  did  not 
call  her  "  mignonne  "  nor  did  the  duchess  call  her  "  Aunt," 
neither  was  the  latter  half  so  free  nor  so  much  at  her  ease  as 
with  the  king  and  Mme.  de  Maiatenon.  The  Due  de  Bour- 
gogne was  under  great  constraint.  His  manners  and  morals 
and  those  of  the  circle  at  Meudon  agreed  very  little.  The 
Due  de  Berry,  whose  manners  were  freer,  was  more  at  his  ease. 
Mme.  la  Duchesse  ruled  the  roast,  and  several  of  her  favourites 
were  from  time  to  time  admitted.  But  for  all  that,  never 
did  Mile.  Choin  appear  openly.  On  feast-days  she  went  at 
six  o'clock  in  the  morning  to  hear  mass  by  herself  in  a 
comer  of  the  chapel,  well  bundled-up  in  her  hoods  ;  she  ate 
her  meals  alone,  unless  Monseigneur  came  up  and  ate  them 
with  her,  which  never  happened  when  he  slept  at  Meudon 
except  on  the  day  of  his  arrival;  and  never  did  she  set 
foot  outside  of  her  o%vn  apartment  or  the  entresol;  when 
she  went  from  the  one  to  the  other,  the  way  was  carefully 
inspected  and  barricaded  so  that  no  one  should  meet  her. 

She  was  considered  to  be  to  Monseigneur  what  Mme.  de 
Maintenon  was  to  the  king.  All  the  batteries  for  the  future 
were  pointed  and  aimed  at  her.     The  courtiers  long  caballed 


1707]  MEMOIRS   OF   THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  25 

for  peraiission  to  visit  her  iii  Paris,  and  paid  their  court 
to  her  old  and  more  particular  friends.  The  Due  de  Bour- 
gogne  and  the  duchess  sought  to  please  her,  and  were  always 
respectful  before  her  and  attentive  to  her  friends,  but  not 
always  successfully.  She  treated  the  Due  de  Bourgogne 
with  the  regard  of  a  stepmother  (which  she  was  not),  but  a 
stiff  and  constrained  regard,  and  it  sometimes  happened  that 
she  spoke  with  such  authority  and  with  so  little  consideration 
to  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  as  to  make  her  cry.  The 
king  and  Mme.  de  Maintenon  were  not  ignorant  of  all  this, 
but  they  held  their  tongues ;  and  the  whole  Court,  which 
knew  of  it,  talked  about  it  in  whispers. 

Mme.  de  Lislebonne  had  a  very  clever  mind,  eminently 
fitted  to  have  made  her  a  great  personage  in  her  race,  had 
she  lived  in  the  times  of  the  League.  Her  eldest  daughter, 
Mile,  de  Lislebonne,  with  a  tranquil,  indifferent  outward  air, 
much  politeness,  though  restricted  and  measured,  with  vast 
and  high  ideas  and  all  the  discernment  and  knowledge 
necessary  to  keep  them  from  being  castles  in  the  air,  had 
by  nature  great  loftiness,  integrity,  knowledge  of  how  to  love 
and  hate,  and  less  manoeuvring  than  ability  to  manage  and 
control.  She  had  great  perseverance,  with  much  wit,  no 
meanness,  no  suppleness,  but  mistress  of  herself  to  bend 
whenever  suitable,  enough  intelligence  to  do  so  with  dignity 
and  to  make  the  value  of  her  condescension  felt  by  those 
of  whom  she  had  need,  withcjut  wounding  them  or  rendering 
them  less  favourable. 

Iler  sister.  Mine.  d'Espinoy,  with  little  intelligence,  supple 
and  HonictimcM  buH(!,  not  for  vvuiit  of  heart  or  pride  but  lack 
of  mind,  was  all  niiino'iivring,  with  a  ])olilcness  loss  cautious 
than  that  of  her  Mister,  and  an  air  t)f  kindliness  which  easily 
made  dupes.  She  knew  how  to  servtt  and  how  to  attach  lier 
friends,     Tliu  virtue  of  tlie  Histers  and  their  presence  were 


26  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.      [chap.  i. 

alike  imposing.  The  elder,  very  simply  dressed  and  without 
beauty,  inspired  respect ;  the  younger,  beautiful  and  graceful, 
attracted.  Both  were  veiy  tall  and  well-made ;  but,  to  those 
who  had  a  nose,  an  odour  of  the  League  issued  from  their 
pores ;  neither  was  malicious  for  the  sake  of  being  so ;  on 
the  contrary,  they  behaved  in  a  manner  to  remove  all  sus- 
picion of  it,  but  when  things  did  not  go  to  their  interests  or 
their  wishes  they  were  terrible. 

Besides  these  natural  dispositions,  they  had  learned  much 
from  two  persons,  with  whom  they  were  intimately  united, 
the  two  men  of  all  the  Court  best  fitted  to  instruct  such 
natures  by  their  experience  and  their  cast  of  mind.  Mile, 
de  Lislebonne  and  the  Chevalier  de  Lorraine  were  all  their 
lives  so  completely  one  that  no  one  ever  doubted  they  were 
married.  This  brought  the  latter  into  union  with  Mme. 
d'Espinoy,  and  allied  both  sisters  with  the  Mar^chal  de 
Villeroy,  the  intimate  and  very  humble  friend  of  the  Cheva- 
lier de  Lorraine  ;  and  it  was  through  the  Mardchal  de  Ville- 
roy that  the  king,  so  jealous  of  every  one  who  approached 
Monseigneur,  not  only  conceived  no  dishke  to  the  sisters, 
but  actually  placed  confidence  in  them,  was  very  glad  of  his 
son's  intimate  relations  with  them,  and  showed  them  in 
every  way  such  distinguished  consideration,  lasting  even 
after  Monseigneur's  death,  that  we  must  conclude  the  two 
sisters,  or  at  any  rate  the  younger,  played  the  same  secret 
part  to  Monseigneur  on  behalf  of  the  king  that  the  Chevalier 
de  Lorraine  had  played  all  his  life  to  Monsieur,  whom  he 
governed  absolutely. 

On  Monseigneur's  part,  their  reign  over  his  mind  was 
untroubled.  Mile.  Choin,  his  Maintenon  in  all  respects 
except  marriage,  was  devoted  to  them  imreservedly.  She 
never  forgot  that  although  Mme.  de  Lislebonne  and  her 
daughters  owed  everything  —  their  subsistence,  their  intro- 


1707]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  27 

duction  to  Monseigneur's  intimacy,  the  beginning  of  their 
consideration  in  the  world  —  to  the  Princesse  de  Conti,  they 
nevertheless  had  not  hesitated  to  sacrifice  their  benefactress 
to  her ;  not  led  to  do  so  by  any  discontent,  but  solely  from 
a  knowledge  of  Monseigneur's  desires,  and  the  utility  of 
being  alone  in  his  confidence  after  the  dismissal  of  Mile. 
Choin  from  the  Princesse  de  Conti's  service.  She  had  been 
too  long  a  witness  to  that  confidence  and  to  the  friendship 
of  JMonseigneur  for  the  two  sisters  (with  w^hom  he  usually 
spent  an  hour  or  two  in  the  morning)  to  jar  with  them  in 
any  way.  She  remained  therefore  intimately  allied  with 
them,  and  also  with  Mme.  la  Duchesse,  whose  gay  and 
equable  temper  and  perfect  health  made  her  the  queen  of 
pleasures  and  a  refuge  to  Monseigneur  from  the  constant 
ill-humour  of  the  Princesse  de  Conti.  Mme.  la  Duchesse, 
who  was  neither  ill-humoured  nor  jealous,  and  to  whom 
Monseigneur's  new  habit  of  coming  to  see  her  familiarly 
was  not  indifferent  as  a  relief  from  the  furies  of  M.  le 
Prince  and  M.  le  Due,  took  very  good  care  to  give  no  of- 
fence to  the  three  others,  the  older  and  most  confidential 
friends  of  Monseigneur. 

These  four  women  were  therefore,  in  regard  to  the  prince, 
and  in  other  matters  common  to  themselves,  in  a  close 
understanding,  which  never  cooled  in  any  way ;  they  helped 
one  another  in  perfect  concert ;  each  holding  herself  free  at 
the  king's  death,  if  Monseigneur  survived  him,  to  sujiplant 
the  ()tli(;rs  re(;i])r()(;ally,  iuid  reniaiu  solo  mistress  without 
dependence!  on  the  rest;  united  meanwhile  in  the  closest 
bond,  and  liolding  inider  their  coinnion  yoke  tli(5  few  men 
who,  through  Moiisoigneur's  liking  or  their  own  in(histrious 
court' to  him,  ini^hr  hiivc  a  rutiirr.  N'ciidunic,  t hfinsolvea, 
Vuii(h'.inonl,,  and  M.  (hi  Maine  wcmh;  those  most  eU)sely  allied, 
hut  tlie  liitl,(ir,  lis  I  IN  I  lid,  Hecretly. 


28  MEMOIRS   OF   THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.       [chap.  i. 

M.  du  Maine  felt  that  Monseigneur  did  not  like  him.  No 
better  way  therefore  to  approach  him,  little  by  little,  than 
M.  andMme.  du  tlirougli  these  Confidential  friends.  Vendome 
Maine;  their         ^^^^  ^^^^  Sufficient.     The  king  was  getting  old, 

characters  and  "  o  o  ' 

conduct.  and  Monseigneur  was  nearing  the  throne ;  M. 

du  Maine  trembled  at  the  thought.  With  the  mind,  I  will 
not  say  of  an  angel,  but  of  the  devil  whom  he  resembled 
in  doing  service  to  none,  but  ill  turns  to  all,  in  deep-laid 
schemes,  in  arrogant  pride,  in  profoundest  falsity,  in  artifices 
without  number,  in  feigned  characteristics  beyond  all  esti- 
mate, yet  pleasing,  with  the  art  of  amusing,  diverting, 
charming  when  he  wished  to  charm,  —  he  was  a  gifted 
poltroon  in  heart  and  mind,  and  being  so,  a  most  dangerous 
poltroon,  and  the  best  fitted,  provided  it  could  be  done 
underhand,  to  go  to  the  most  temble  extemities  to  save 
himself  from  whatever  he  feared,  and  also  to  lend  himself 
to  grovelling  meanness  and  slavishness,  by  which  the  devil 
lost  nothing. 

He  was,  moreover,  pushed  on  by  a  woman  of  the  same 
stamp,  whose  mind,  and  she  had  a  great  deal,  had  long  been 
spoiled  and  corrupted  by  the  reading  of  novels  and  plays  ;  to 
a  passion  for  which  she  abandoned  herself  so  much  that  she 
spent  whole  years  in  learning  dramas  by  heart  and  playing 
them  publicly  herself.  She  had  courage  to  excess ;  she  was 
enterprising,  audacious,  passionate,  knowing  nothing  but  the 
present  passion  and  making  everything  bend  to  that.  In- 
dignant against  the  prudence  and  precautions  of  her  husband, 
which  she  called  miserable  weakness,  slie  constantly  re- 
proached him  for  the  honour  she  had  done  him  in  marrying 
him ;  she  forced  him  to  be  supple  and  humble  before  her  by 
treating  him  like  a  negro,  and  she  ruined  him  from  top  to 
bottom  without  his  daring  to  say  a  word,  bearing  everything 
in  his  great  terror  lest  her  head  should  give  way  altogether. 


1707]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUO   DE    SAINT-SIMON.  29 

Though  he  hid  a  great  deal  from  her,  the  ascendency  she  had 
over  him  was  incredible ;  and  it  was  by  force  of  blows  that 
she  drove  him  wherever  she  would.^ 

No  understanding  was  ever  come  to  by  the  Meudon  cabal 
with  the  Comte  de  Toulouse.  He  was  a  man  of  few  words, 
The  Comte  de  ^ut  liouour,  virtue,  integrity,  truth,  equity  itself, 
Toulouse.  ^^.-^.j-^  ^  manner  as  gracious  as  natural  iciness 

would  allow,  courage,  and  a  desire  to  make  himself  something, 
but  always  by  good  means ;  a  man  in  whom  a  just  and  up- 
right sense  in  all  ordinary  matters  supplied  the  place  of  intel- 
lect ;  very  industrious  in  learning  the  maritime  features  of 
war  and  commerce  both,  and  understanding  them  very  well. 
A  man  of  this  character  was  not  made  to  be  on  intimate  terms 
with  his  brother  or  his  sister-in-law.  M.  du  Maine  saw  that 
he  was  liked  and  respected  because  he  deserved  to  be,  and 
was  envious.  The  Comte  de  Toulouse,  wise,  silent,  deliberate, 
felt  this,  but  gave  no  sign  of  doing  so.  He  could  not  endure 
the  follies  of  his  sister-in-law.  She  saw  it  plainly,  and  it 
made  her  furious ;  she  could  not  endure  him  in  turn,  and 
did  her  best  to  alienate  the  brothers  still  farther  from  each 
other. 

The  Comte  de  Toulouse  had  always  been  on  good  terms 
with  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  and  the  duchess,  who  treated 
him  with  respect  and  consideration.  He  was  timid  with  the 
king,  who  amused  himself  much  more  witli  M.  du  Maine,  the 
Pjcnjamin  of  Mme.  do  Maintenon,  his  old  governess,  to  whom 
\ut  liad  sacrificed  Mme.  de  Montespan,  a  fact  that  ncitlier  of 
tlicin  could  ever  forget.  Du  Maine  had  the  art  to  persuade 
the  king  that  with  nnicli  intelligence,  wliit  li  ii(t  niif  coidd 
d(Miy  liiiii,  lie  liiid  no  vicnvs,  no  niiil)iti(in  ;  in  short,  wn.s  an 
idiot  of  l(!iHure,  solitude,  rctircinent,  and  tlic  grcntest  dupe  in 
the  world  in  every  way.     He  passed  his  life  in  liis  study,  ato 

'  Klie  wiiH  Aiiiie-B(Jn(5(licto  <lo  IJoiirlKHi-Conilf',  iliuinlitor  nf  i\l.  le  rriiiei'. 


30  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.        [chap.  i. 

alone,  avoided  society,  hunted  alone,  and  made  himself  a  real 
merit  with  the  king  by  this  strange  life  (seeing  him,  however, 
every  day  at  private  hours),  and  was,  to  sum  up  all,  su- 
premely a  hypocrite,  going  to  mass,  vespers,  and  the  com- 
munion of  feast-days  and  Sundays  with  much  ostentation. 
He  was  the  heart,  soul,  and  oracle  of  Mme.  de  ]\Iaintenon, 
with  whom  he  did  what  he  chose,  and  who  thought  only  of 
what  would  be  most  advantageous  and  agreeable  to  him,  at 
the  expense  of  others,  no  matter  who  they  might  be. 

This  is  a  long  digression ;  but  it  will  be  seen  in  the  end 
how  necessary  it  is  for  a  full  understanding  of  what  will 
have  to  be  told.  These  personages  moved  many  tilings  in 
a  way  which  cannot  be  understood  without  this  key. 


//,,,r        ,/       .        //v././. 


n. 


A  DEATH  which  made  much  noise,  although  of  a  person 
long  since  retired  from  the  world,  and  who  had  not  retained 
DeathofMme.de  any  portiou  of  an  influence  once  all-powerful, 
Montespan.  ^^^^  ^^^^^^  ^j  ^^^^^    ^^  Moutcspau,  which  Oc- 

curred at  the  baths  of  Bourbon  in  the  sixty -sixth  year  of  her 
age,  on  Friday,  May  27,  at  three  in  the  morning. 

I  will  not  go  back  beyond  my  own  time  to  speak  of  the 
period  of  her  reign.  I  shall  merely  say,  because  it  is  a  fact 
which  is  little  known,  that  her  husband  was  more  in  fault 
than  herself.  She  warned  him  of  her  suspicion  that  the  king 
loved  her ;  she  did  not  leave  him  ignorant  when  she  doubted 
it  no  longer.  She  assured  him  that  a  ball  which  the  king 
was  about  to  give  was  given  for  her ;  she  urged  him,  she  con- 
jured him  with  the  utmost  earnestness  to  take  her  to  his 
estates  in  Guyenne,  and  to  leave  her  there  until  the  king  had 
forgotten  her  and  was  captivated  elsewhere.  Nothing  could 
move  Montespan,  who  was  not  long  in  repenting  himself. 
His  punishment  was  that  lie  lived  his  whole  life  and  died  in 
love  with  her,  though  without  ever  seeing  her  again  after  the 
first  outbreak  of  the  scandal.  Neither  sliall  I  speak  of  the 
various  times  wlieii  fear  of  {\w.  devil  urged  her  to  separate 
from  th(!  (Joint;  and  1  shall  tell  elsewhere  of  Mme.  do 
Maintenon,  who  owed  her  all,  and  took  little  by  little  her 
place;  mounting  upon  it  still  higher,  making  her  swallow  tiie 
most  cruel  indignities,  and  liniilly  driving  her  away.  What 
no  one,  dan!(l  to  do,  wlinl.  the  king  hiniscdl'  was  dreading,  M. 
du   Maine,  as   I    liiivt;  said   el.sewhcre,  Lo(.)lc  u[)on   himself  to 


32  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.       [chap.  ii. 

bring  about,  and  ]\I.  de  Meaux  completed ;  she  left  the  Court 
in  tears  and  fury,  and  never  forgave  her  son,  who  by  this 
strange  service  bound  to  him  forever  the  heart  and  the 
omnipotence  of  Mme.  de  Maintenon. 

It  was  long  before  the  discarded  mistress,  retreating  to 
the  community  of  Saint-Joseph  which  she  had  built,  could 
be  reconciled  to  her  fate.  She  carried  her  leisure  and 
her  sorrows  to  Bourbon,  to  Fontevrault,  to  the  D'Antin 
estates,  and  was  many  years  unable  to  recover  herself.  At 
last  God  touched  her.  Her  sin  had  never  been  accom- 
panied by  forgetfulness.  Often  she  would  leave  the  king 
to  pray  to  God  in  her  cabinet ;  nothing  would  have  induced 
her  to  neglect  a  fast ;  she  kept  all  the  Lents  with  austerity 
throughout  the  whole  period  of  her  licentiousness.  Alms, 
respect  for  persons  of  worth,  never  anything  approaching 
to  doubt  or  impiety;  but,  at  the  same  time,  imperious, 
haughty,  domineering,  scornful,  and  all  that  beauty  and 
unlimited  power  carry  with  them.  Eesolved  at  last  to 
put  to  profit  the  time  that  had  been  given  to  her  in  spite 
of  herself,  she  sought  for  some  wise  and  enlightened  direc- 
tion, and  put  herself  finally  into  the  hands  of  Pere  de  La 
Tour,  that  general  of  the  Oratoire  so  well  known  for  his 
sermons,  his  counsels,  his  friends,  and  for  his  prudence  and 
his  talents  for  governing.  From  that  moment  until  her 
death  her  conversion  never  faltered,  her  repentance  went 
on  increasing.  In  the  first  place  it  was  necessary  to 
renounce  the  secret  attachment  which  still  bound  her  to 
the  Court,  and  the  hopes  which,  all  chimerical  as  they 
were,  she  had  always  cherished.  She  had  persuaded  her- 
self that  fear  of  the  devil  had  alone  compelled  the  king  to 
leave  her;  that  this  same  fear,  which  Mme.  de  Maintenon 
had  so  ably  used  to  have  her  sent  away  altogether,  was 
the  reason  why  the  latter  had  attained  to  her  station  of 


1707]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  33 

grandeur;  that  her  age  and  ill-health,  as  Mme.  de  Monte- 
span  imagined  it  to  be,  would  soon  remove  her,  and  the 
king  once  a  widower,  nothing  would  hinder  the  rekindling 
of  a  jEire  once  so  vivid,  which  his  love  for  their  children 
and  his  desire  for  their  grandeur  would  fan  to  flame;  and 
then,  having  no  scruples  to  subdue,  her  husband  being 
dead,  he  might  allow  her  to  succeed  to  all  the  rights  of 
her  enemy. 

Even  her  children  flattered  themselves  with  this  hope, 
and  paid  her  the  most  assiduous  duty.  She  loved  them 
passionately,  except  M.  du  Maine,  who  was  long  without 
seeing  her,  and  never  did  see  her  except  from  decency. 
It  would  be  little  to  say  that  she  had  influence  over  the 
three  others ;  she  had  authority,  and  she  used  it  without 
restraint.  Pfere  de  La  Tour  had  compelled  her  to  a  terrible 
act  of  penance,  namely,  to  ask  pardon  of  her  husband  and 
place  herself  in  his  hands.  She  wrote  to  him  in  the  most 
submissive  language,  offering  to  return  to  him  if  he  deigned 
to  receive  her,  or  to  live  in  whatever  place  he  ordered. 
To  whoever  knew  Mme.  de  Montespan  this  must  seem  a 
most  heroic  sacrifice.  She  had  the  merit  of  it,  but  not  the 
trial.  M.  de  Montespan  sent  her  word  that  he  would 
neither  receive  her  nor  direct  her  nor  hear  her  spoken  of 
as  long  as  he  lived.  At  his  death  she  wore  mourning  like 
an  ordinary  widow ;  but  neither  before  nor  after  did  she 
take  back  his  liveries  or  his  arms,  which  she  had  quitted, 
and  liencoforth   she  bore  her  own  singly. 

Little  by  little  she  finally  gave  almost  all  she  had  to 
the  poor.  She  worked  for  them  several  hours  a  day,  sew- 
ing on  coarse  clothing,  such  as  cliemises  ami  other  ntMuled 
artif.lcs.  Tier  taldn,  whicli  nhc.  loved  to  (excess,  bccunio 
most  frugal ;  li(ir  fiiHls  nidoublud ;  ])ray(!r  ind'rrujited  her 
intercourse!  and  Lhe  little  games  of  curdH  with  which  sho 
VOL.  II. — y 


34  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.       [chap.  ii. 

amused  herself ;  for  at  all  hours  of  the  day  she  left  those 
about  her,  to  pray  by  herself  in  her  cabinet.  She  wore 
perpetually  bracelets,  garters,  and  a  belt,  with  iron  spikes 
which  often  made  wounds  in  her  flesh ;  her  tongue, 
formerly  so  much  to  be  dreaded,  now  performed  its  own 
penance.  She  was,  moreover,  so  tortured  by  the  terrors  of 
death  that  she  paid  the  services  of  several  women  whose 
sole  employment  was  to  watch  her  at  night.  She  slept 
with  all  her  curtains  open  and  many  wax  tapers  in  the 
chamber,  her  watchers  stationed  around  her;  and  every 
time  she  woke  she  "dished  to  find  them  conversing,  making 
merry,  or  eating,  to  convince  her  they  were  not  napping. 

With  all  this,  she  could  never  forsake  the  queenly  air 
and  manner  she  had  usurped  in  the  days  of  her  favour,  and 
which  followed  her  into  her  retreat.  An  air  of  grandeur  was 
everywhere  about  her ;  she  was  beautiful  as  the  day  to  the 
last  moment  of  her  life,  and  never  ill,  though  she  often 
thought  herself  on  the  point  of  dying.  This  anxiety  about 
her  health  kept  her  travelling;  and  on  her  journeys  she 
always  took  seven  or  eight  persons  in  company,  Superior 
in  all  ways  herself,  with  graces  which  made  her  haughtiness 
pass  current,  and  were,  indeed,  adapted  to  it,  it  was  not  pos- 
sible to  have  more  wit,  more  dehcate  pohteness,  expressed 
with  peculiar  charm,  eloquence,  and  natural  correctness.  This 
gave  her,  as  it  were,  a  language  of  her  own  that  was  delight- 
ful, and  which  she  was  able  to  commimicate  by  habit,  so 
that  her  nieces,  and  others  assiduous  about  her  acquired  it ; 
in  fact,  we  feel  it  and  recognize  it  even  to  this  day  in  the 
few  of  her  race  who  remain.  It  was  the  natural  language  of 
her  family,  of  her  brother  and  of  her  sisters  as  well  as  her- 
self. Her  vocation,  or  perhaps  her  fancy,  was  to  marry 
people,  above  all,  young  girls ;  and  as  she  had  Httle  to  give 
them  after  all  her  charities,  it  was  often  mere  hunger  and 


1707]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUC   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  35 

thirst  that  she  wedded.  Never,  from  the  moment  she  left 
the  Court,  did  she  stoop  to  ask  anything  either  for  herself 
or  for  others.  The  ministers,  the  intendants,  the  judges 
never  heard  one  word  from  her.  The  last  time  she  went  to 
Bourbon  she  paid,  without  necessity,  two  years  in  advance 
on  all  her  charitable  pensions,  of  which  she  gave  a  great 
number,  nearly  all  among  the  poor  nobility,  and  she  doubled 
her  other  alms.  Although  in  full  health  by  her  own 
acknowledgment,  she  said  she  believed  she  should  never 
return  from  that  journey,  and  that  all  those  poor  people 
v/ould  have,  by  these  advances,  enough  time  to  seek  for 
their  subsistence  in  other  ways.  Death  was  always  present 
to  her;  she  spoke  of  it  as  near  when  her  health  was  ex- 
cellent ;  but  with  all  her  terrors,  her  watchers,  her  perpetual 
preparations,  she  never  had  a  doctor,  nor  even  a  surgeon. 

Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  and  Mme.  de  Lauzun  were  at 
Bourbon  where  Mme.  de  Montespan  arrived.  I  have  men- 
tioned elsewhere  that  she  was  cousin  once  removed  to  my 
mother  (grand-children  of  a  brother  and  sister).  My  mother 
saw  her  from  time  to  time  at  Saint- Joseph,  and  Mme.  de 
Saint-Simon  also ;  consequently  at  Bourbon  she  made  them 
all  sorts  of  caresses  and  kindnesses,  not  to  say  distinctions, 
with  the  same  air  of  grandeur  which  she  always  retained. 
The  Mardchalc  de  Coeuvres  was  so  mortified  and  jealous  that 
she  showed  it  and  even  acknowledged  it,  so  that  peojile 
laughed  at  lior.  T  mentioii  this  mere  nothing  to  sliow  that 
the  idea  of  Ihu-  taking  Mme.  de  Maintenon's  place  eventually 
had  entered  the  heads  of  the  courtiers  wlio  were  nearest  to 
the  king. 

Suddenly  one  iiiglii,  though  in  very  good  health,  Mnio. 
do  Morit(!Hf)an  felt  so  ill  that  her  watchers  (^alUnl  up  (he 
people  ill  the  hou.^.((.  The,  Mar^ichah!  di!  (\i'nvn's  was  Ihe 
first  to   get  to  Ik'i-;    liiidiiig   her  sufllbcathig   and   her  head 


36  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG   DE   SADsT-SIMON.       [chap.  ii. 

affected,  she  ordered  an  emetic  to  be  given  instantly  on  her 
own  authority,  but  the  dose  was  so  powerful  that  the  effects 
frightened  them  and  they  set  to  work  to  arrest  them ;  which 
possibly  cost  her  her  life.  She  profited  by  a  few  moments  of 
respite  to  confess  and  receive  the  sacraments.  Before  doing 
so,  she  called  in  all  her  servants,  down  to  the  lowest,  and 
made  confession  of  her  public  sins,  asking  pardon  for  the 
scandal  she  had  so  long  caused,  and  for  her  ill-tempers,  with 
so  deep  and  penitent  a  humihty  that  nothing  could  be  more 
edifying.  She  then  received  the  last  sacraments  with  ardent 
piety.  The  fears  of  death,  which  all  her  life  had  so  tormented 
her,  had  disappeared  and  troubled  her  no  more.  She  thanked 
God  before  all  present  for  permitting  her  to  die  at  a  distance 
from  the  children  of  her  sin,  and  she  never  spoke  of  them 
but  that  once  during  her  illness.  Her  mind  was  occupied 
only  with  eternity  (though  they  tried  to  encourage  her  with 
hopes  of  recovery),  and  with  her  condition  as  a  sinner  whose 
fears  were  eased  by  a  sure  confidence  in  the  mercy  of  God, 
dying  without  regret  and  solely  concerned  to  render  her 
sacrifice  pleasing  in  his  sight  by  a  gentleness  and  peace 
which  accompanied  all  her  actions. 

Nothing  could  exceed  the  grief  shown  by  the  Duchesse 
d'Orldans,  Mme.  la  Duchesse,  and  the  Comte  de  Toulouse. 
M.  du  Maine  could  scarcely  conceal  his  joy ;  he  was  dehvered 
at  last  from  the  remains  of  an  embarrassment.  The  grief 
of  Mme.  la  Duchesse  was  surprising ;  for  she  had  piqued 
herself  all  her  life  on  loving  nothing,  and  love,  if  such  it 
can  be  called,  had  hitherto  brought  her  nothing  but  regrets. 
What  was  more  surprising  still  vvas  the  grief  exhibited  by 
M.  le  Due,  so  little  accessible  was  he  to  friendship,  and  whose 
pride  had  always  been  ashamed  of  such  a  mother-in-law. 
All  this  confirms  me  in  my  opinion  explained  above  as  to 
their  hopes,  to  which  this  death  put  an  end  forever. 


1707]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  37 

Mme.  de  Maintenon,  delivered  from  a  former  mistress 
whose  place  she  had  taken,  whom  she  had  driven  from  the 
Court,  and  about  whom  she  could  never  divest  herself  of  fears 
and  jealousies,  might  now  be  supposed  to  feel  herself  free. 
Not  so,  however.  Kemorse  for  what  she  had  owed  to  her 
former  mistress  and  had  so  ill  repaid,  overwhelmed  her  when 
she  received  the  news.  Her  tears  flowed ;  she  took  refuge 
in  her  dressing-room  as  her  only  asylum.  The  Duchesse  de 
Bourgogne  pursued  her  there,  but  was  speechless  with  amaze- 
ment. She  was  not  less  astonished  at  the  perfect  insensibil- 
ity of  the  king,  after  a  love  so  passionate  and  one  which  had 
lasted  so  many  years.  She  could  not  restrain  herself  from 
showing  her  surprise.  The  king  replied  tranquilly  that 
when  he  parted  from  Mme.  de  Montespan  he  had  never 
intended  to  see  her  again,  and  therefore  from  that  time  forth 
she  was  dead  to  him.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  the  grief  of 
her  children  was  not  agreeable  to  him.  Nevertheless,  al- 
though repressed  at  every  point,  it  had  its  course,  and  it  was 
long.  The  whole  Court  went  to  see  them,  though  saying 
nothing  of  the  cause  of  it,  and  the  spectacle  was  curious. 
The  daughters  of  the  king  and  Mme.  de  Montespan  dared  not 
wear  mourning  for  a  mother  not  recognized.  They  could 
only  show  their  grief  by  leaving  off  all  ornaments  and  all 
amusements,  even  cards,  which  they  denied  themselves  for  a 
very  long  time ;  and  so  did  the  Comte  de  Toulouse.  The 
Kfe  and  conduct  of  so  famous  a  mistress  after  her  forced 
retirement  has  seemed  to  me  sufficiently  curious  to  warrant 
my  enlarging  upon  it ;  while  tlie  clfect  of  her  death  upon  the 
(Jfjurt  will  serve  to  characterize!  life  of  Courts. 

1'ho  death  of  the  Duchesse  do  Nemours,  which  followed 
that  of  Mme.  de  Montespan  very  closely,  made  still  more 
Death  of  the  noise,   ill    tlui   world,  but  of  a  diffornnt  kind. 

Duchcnae  de 

Nemoum.  Slic,  WHS  tll(!    (luuglllcr   of    tin;   \)\u:    dv.    I.ongUC- 


XWAIVA 


38  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.      [cuap.  ii. 

ville  by  his  first  wife,  eldest  daughter  of  the  Comte  de 
Soissons,  prince  of  the  blood,  who  made  and  lost  the  famous 
suit  against  Henri  II.,  Prince  de  Conde,  son  of  his  eldest 
brother  and  father  of  the  hero.  Mme.  de  Nemours,  with 
a  very  singular  figure  and  a  way  of  di-essing  herself  like 
a  menial  nun  that  was  not  less  singular,  with  prominent 
eyes  that  could  not  see,  and  a  habit  of  twitching  one  shoul- 
der, had,  nevertheless,  a  most  imposing  air.  Proud  to  the 
last  degree,  she  had  mfinite  wit,  with  a  Hvely  and  eloquent 
tongue  to  which  she  denied  nothing.  She  hved  in  one  half 
of  the  hotel  de  Soissons ;  in  the  other  half  was  the  Prin- 
cesse  de  Carignan,  with  whom  she  had  frequent  squabbles, 
though  the  sister  of  her  mother  and  a  princess  of  the  blood. 
Mme.  de  Nemours  joined  to  her  inherited  hatred  of  the 
branch  of  Cond^  that  which  the  children  of  a  first  wife  often 
feel  to  those  of  a  second;  she  never  forgave  Mme.  de  Longue- 
ville  for  the  ill-treatment  she  professed  to  have  received 
from  her.  Still  less  did  she  forgive  the  two  Princes  of  Condd 
for  having  snatched  away  from  her  the  guardianship  and 
property  of  her  brother,  nor  the  Prince  de  Conti  for  having 
won  the  inheritance  by  a  will  that  was  made  in  his  favour. 
Her  speeches,  very  violent,  very  spicy,  and  often  most  amus- 
ing, never  lacked  on  all  these  subjects,  and  she  spared  not  at 
all  the  princes  of  the  blood. 

She  was  extraordinarily  rich  and  lived  iu  great  splendour 
and  with  much  dignity ;  but  her  quarrels  and  her  lawsuits 
had  so  soured  her  mind  that  she  could  not  forgive.  She 
never  ceased  to  talk  about  them ;  and  one  day  when  some- 
body asked  her  if  she  ever  said  the  Lord's  Prayer,  she 
answered  yes,  but  she  skipped  the  clause  about  forgiving 
trespasses.  It  may  therefore  be  inferred  that  devotion  did 
not  inconvenience  her.  She  herself  told  the  story  that,  when 
she  had  gone  to  a  confessional  without  her  suite,  who  did  not 


1707]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  39 

follow  her  into  the  church,  the  confessor  was  not  impressed 
by  her  looks  or  her  accoutrements.  She  spoke  of  her  great 
property  and  had  much  to  say  of  the  Princes  of  Condd  and 
Conti.  The  confessor  told  her  to  leave  out  all  that.  She, 
thinking  her  case  very  serious,  insisted  on  explaining,  and 
began  to  talk  of  great  estates  and  millions.  The  good  man 
thought  her  crazy  and  told  her  to  be  calm,  that  such  ideas  as 
those  ought  to  be  driven  away ;  he  advised  her  to  think  no 
more  about  them,  and  above  all,  to  eat  good  soups,  if  she  had 
the  means.  On  this  she  flew  into  a  passion,  and  the  con- 
fessor shut  the  wicket.  She  rose  from  her  knees  and  started 
for  the  church  door.  The  confessor,  hearing  her  depart,  had 
the  curiosity  to  see  what  became  of  her,  and  followed  her. 
When  he  saw  the  good  woman  whom  he  thought  crazy 
received  by  equerries  and  ladies  in  waiting  and  all  the  grand 
suite  which  attended  her  wherever  she  went,  he  felt  hke 
dropping  through  the  earth ;  then  he  rushed  to  her  carriage- 
door  and  asked  her  pardon.  She,  in  her  turn,  scoffed  at  him, 
and  gained  one  day's  excuse  from  confession.  A  few  weeks 
before  her  death  she  was  so  ill  that  they  pressed  her  to  think 
of  her  end.  She  finally  took  a  resolution,  and  sent  her  con- 
fessor and  one  of  her  gentlemen-in-waiting  to  M.  le  Prince, 
M.  le  Prince  de  Conti,  and  the  MM.  de  Matignon  to  beg 
their  pardon  on  her  behalf.  They  all  went  to  see  her  and 
were  well  received ;  but  that  was  all ;  not  one  of  them  got 
anything.  She  was  eighty-six  years  old,  and  left  all  she 
could  to  the  two  daughters  of  the  bastard  of  the  last  Comte 
de  Soissons  (prince  of  the  blood,  killed  at  the  battle  of  Sedan 
in  1041),  whom  she  made  her  heir.  One  of  these  daughters 
died  young  and  unmarried;  the  other  marriiMl  the  Duo  d(^ 
Luynes. 

The  marine   year  ended  with  a   terrible   tempest   on  the 
coasts   of   Holland,   which    wrecked    many    vossols   on    (lie 


40  MEMOmS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  n. 

Texel  and  submerged  whole  districts  and  villages.  France 
also  had  its  share  in  the  scourge  of  waters ;  the  Loire 
„  ,  _        ^        overflowed    in   a   manner    hitherto    unheard- 

Fatal  tempest 

and  inundations,  gf,  Carried  awaj  the  embankments,  flooded 
and  choked  with  sand  whole  tracts  of  country,  swept  away 
villages,  drowned  many  persons  and  quantities  of  cattle, 
and  did  a  damage  of  more  than  eight  millions.  This  was 
one  obhgation  the  more  which  the  country  owes  to  M.  de 
la  Feuillade,  and  one  which  has  been  perpetuated,  more 
or  less,  ever  since.  Nature,  wiser  than  men,  or,  to  speak 
more  truly,  its  Author,  had  placed  a  barrier  of  rocks  in 
the  Loire  beyond  Eoanne,  thus  preventing  navigation  above 
that  place,  which  is  the  chief  town  of  M.  de  la  Feuillade's 
duchy.  His  father,  tempted  by  the  profits  of  navigation, 
desired  to  blast  them.  But  Orleans,  Blois,  Tours,  in  fact 
all  the  towns  on  the  course  of  the  Loire,  opposed  it.  They 
represented  the  danger  of  inundations,  and  were  heeded. 
Although  M.  de  la  Feuillade  was  a  favourite  who  stood  very 
w^ell  with  M.  Colbert,  it  was  decreed  that  no  such  changes 
should  be  made,  and  the  rocks  were  not  to  be  touched. 
His  son,  being  Chamillart's  son-in-law,  had  greater  influ- 
ence. Without  listening  to  any  one,  he  proceeded  to  strike 
the  blow ;  the  rocks  were  blasted ;  navigation  w"as  clear,  to 
the  benefit  of  M.  de  la  Feuillade ;  but  the  inundations 
which  those  rocks  prevented  have  taken  place  from  time 
to  time  ever  since,  to  the  vast  loss  of  the  king  and  private 
persons.  The  cause  has  been  admitted  since,  but  it  was 
then  irreparable. 

For  a  long  time  past  a  most  important  project  had  been 

secretly   rapping   at    many  doors,  seeking   a   hearing.     Its 

J  Qg  hour  came  at  last  during  a  trip  to  Fontaine- 

The  Scotch  bleau,   where  it   was   adopted,  and  where   its 

project.  promoters,   whom   I   had   divined  from   their 


1708]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  41 

behaviour,  acknowledged  it  to  me  under  pledge  of  secrecy. 
At  the  same  time  I  discovered  another  secret,  which  has 
never  been  known  except  to  a  very  few  intimate  friends. 
This  last  was  that  the  Due  de  Chevreuse  was  actually 
minister  of  State,  without  the  appearance  of  it  and  without 
belonging  to  the  Council.  After  a  while  I  suspected  this ; 
his  frequent  conferences  with  Pontchartrain,i  the  admissions 
they  both  made  me  as  to  their  discussions,  the  results  I 
saw  produced  during  this  stay  at  Fontainebleau,  persuaded 
me  that  I  was  not  mistaken  in  believing  that  the  Due  de 
Chevreuse  was  minister.  I  ventured  to  say  so  plainly  to 
the  Due  de  Beauvilhers,  who,  in  his  surprise,  asked  me,  in 
some  distress,  how  I  had  heard  it,  but  finally  acknowledged 
the  fact  under  the  greatest  secrecy.  That  same  day  I  gave 
myself  the  pleasure  of  saying  the  same  thing  to  the  Due 
de  Chevreuse.  He  blushed  to  the  whites  of  his  eyes,  stam- 
mered, hesitated,  and  finally  implored  me  to  keep  it  impen- 
etrably secret,  for  he  could  not  conceal  it  from  me  any 
longer. 

After  a  while  I  suspected  something  else;  and  I  dis- 
covered the  whole  mystery  of  that  also  at  Fontainebleau. 
Affairs  of  State  it  was  to  which  his  close  conversations  with 
the  king  related,  and  affairs  of  State  about  which  he  was 
so  assiduously  busy  in  his  own  cabinet,  where  it  was  not 
likely  that  his  domestic  matters  or  those  of  his  regiment 
of  light-horse  could  keep  him  so  habitually.  He  had 
always  been  to  the  king's  taste.  He  was  perhaps  the  only 
man  of  mhid  and  learning  whom  the  king  did  not  fear; 
his  gentleness,  his  moderation,  his  modesty  reassured  him, 
and  the  trembling  maiuier  of  himself  and  the  Due  do 
Beauvilliers  Ixiforo  the  king  was  always  a  great  merit.  No 
one  8p(jk(!    iiioro   cornictly,   clearly,   easily,   consistently,  or 

^  MiniHtLT  of  llic  Niivy  ;  hoii  of  llic  (•liiiin'ullor.  —  Tu. 


42  xMEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  ii. 

with  better  knowledge  and  so  much  gentleness,  ghdng  an 
easy  turn  to  all  things.  The  king  would  wiUingly  have 
put  him  in  the  Council,  but  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  Harcourt, 
and  even  M.  de  La  Eochefoucauld  feared  him  and  prevented 
it.  The  king  therefore  took  up  with  this  incognito,  which 
I  believe  to  have  been  unique  in  its  way,  and  was  such  that 
no  one,  perhaps,  except  the  Due  de  Chevreuse  would  have  got 
along  with  it,  especially  under  the  certainty  that  the  obsta- 
cle which  reduced  him  to  this  sort  of  shadiness  would  always 
exist,  and  would  always  keep  the  Council  door  shut  to  him. 

It  was  through  him  that  the  project  I  spoke  of  was  ad- 
mitted. Hough,  an  Enghsh  gentleman,  full  of  inteUigence 
and  knowledge,  especially  of  the  laws  of  his  country,  had 
played  several  parts  in  his  own  land.  A  clergyman  by  profes- 
sion, and  furious  against  King  James,  next,  a  CathoHc  and 
King  James'  spy,  he  had  been  denounced  and  delivered  up  to 
King  Wniiam,  who  pardoned  him.  He  profited  by  this  pardon 
to  continue  his  services  to  James.  He  was  captured  several 
times,  but  escaped  from  the  Tower  of  London  and  other  pris- 
ons. Not  being  able  to  remain  in  England,  he  came  to 
France,  where,  living  as  an  officer,  he  occupied  himself  still 
in  pubhc  matters  for  which  he  was  paid  by  the  king,  and 
also  by  King  James,  for  whose  restoration  he  was  constantly 
planning.  The  imion  of  Scotland  and  England,  which  had 
just  taken  place,  seemed  to  him  a  most  favourable  juncture, 
on  account  of  the  despair  of  the  ancient  kingdom  at  finding 
itself  reduced  to  a  province  under  the  English  yoke.  The 
Jacobite  party  was  stUl  intact ;  the  hatred  of  this  forced 
union  grew  into  a  desire  to  break  it  by  means  of  a  king 
whom  they  might  re-establish.  Hough,  who  maintained 
commimications  everywhere,  was  notified  of  this  fermenta- 
tion ;  he  made  secret  journeys,  and  after  rapping  at  several 
of  our  ministers'  doors,  CaiUiferes,  who  opened  to  him,  spoke 


1708]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  43 

about  his  scheme  to  the  Due  de  Chevreuse,  and  then  to  the 
Due  de  Beauvilliers,  both  of  whom  saw  something  solid  in  it. 
It  was  a  sure  means  of  making  a  powerful  diversion,  of  de- 
priving the  allies  of  the  help  of  the  EngUsh,  forced  to  attend 
to  their  own  affairs,  and  of  making  them  powerless  to  support 
the  archduke  in  Spain.  The  two  dukes  gained  over  Chamil- 
lart,  then  Desmarets  as  soon  as  he  came  into  office.  But  the 
king  was  so  disgusted  with  the  bad  success  he  had  always  had 
in  this  sort  of  enterprise  that  none  of  them  dared  to  propose 
it  to  him.  Chamillart  had  merely  consented.  Exhausted 
in  body  and  mind,  overwhelmed  with  work,  he  was  not  in 
a  position  to  become  the  promoter  of  such  an  undertaking. 
Chevreuse  spoke  to  the  chancellor  to  see  how  he  would  take 
it,  and  whether  he  would  persuade  his  son,  whose  ministry, 
of  course,  would  be  principally  engaged  in  the  matter.  The 
chancellor  approved.  Pontchartrain  dared  not  resist,  but  he 
sought  to  profit  by  the  natural  slowness  of  M.  de  Chevreuse, 
and  his  faculty  for  endless  reasoning,  and  so  delay  and  repel 
him  by  raising  difficulties.  This  was  how  I  came  to  discover 
the  matter  at  Fontainebleau.  I  lodged  with  Pontchartrain  in 
the  chateau,  and  I  was  often  with  M.  de  Chevreuse.  Their 
perpetual  visits,  their  long  conferences  excited  my  curiosity ; 
I  guessed  from  that  time  what  was  stirring  between  them, 
and  Caillibres  soon  after  put  me  fairly  on  the  track. 

All  measures  being  taken,  it  became  a  question  of  persuad- 
ing tlie  king.  To  succeed  in  this,  it  took  the  efforts  of 
l\lmc.  de  Maintenon  and  the  other  ministers ;  and  even  then 
ho  was  so  disgusted  witli  such  enterprises  that  ho  only  gave 
ill  to  this  one  by  way  of  compliance,  not  liking  it  himself. 
As  soon  as  lie  consented,  the  matter  was  ])ul  in  hand  at  once ; 
and  at  the  same  time  anotlicr  enterprise,  connected  with  this 
one  and  HUp])orting  it,  was  jjroposcd.  It  was  thought  possible 
to  ])rolit  by  tli(!  <k!H])iiir  into  which   the  ill-troatmont  of  the 


44  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  ii. 

Imperials  had  cast  the  Spanish  Low-Countries,  which  had 
fallen  into  their  hands  after  the  battle  of  Eamilhes,  to  make 
them  revolt  at  the  time  when  the  expedition  to  Scotland 
should  bewilder  the  English,  and  deprive  the  allies  of  their 
assistance. 

A  number  of  Scottish  deputies,  bearing  powers  signed  by 
the  principal  lords  of  the  country,  and  a  vast  number  of 
other  signatures,  were  liidden  in  the  village  of  Montrouge 
near  Paris.  They  urged  the  expedition  strongly.  The  king 
gave  all  the  necessary  orders  for  it.  Thirty  vessels  were 
armed  at  Dunkerque  and  the  neighbouring  ports.  The 
Chevalier  de  Forbin,  who  had  distinguished  himself  in  the 
Adriatic,  and  also  in  the  North  Sea  and  along  the  coasts  of 
England  and  Scotland,  was  chosen  to  command  the  squadron 
destined  for  the  expedition.  Four  millions  were  sent  to 
Flanders  to  pay  the  troops;  six  thousand  of  whom  were 
advanced  along  the  coast  towards  Dunkerque.  The  prepa- 
ration of  vessels  was  given  out  to  be  for  private  armaments, 
and  the  movement  of  troops  for  change  of  garrison.  The 
secret  was  well  preserved  to  the  very  end ;  but  the  misfor- 
tune was  that  all  was  too  slow.  The  necvj  was  not  ready  in 
time;  and  all  that  depended  on  Chamillart  was  still  more 
tardy.  He  and  Pontchartrain,  long  embittered  towards  each 
other,  bandied  the  blame  mutually  with  much  acerbity.  The 
truth  was,  they  both  deserved  it,  but  Pontchartrain  v/as  more 
than  suspected  to  have  lagged  from  ill-will  to  the  project ; 
the  other  from  impotence.  Great  care  was  taken  that  no 
movement  should  appear  around  Saint-Germain.  The  few 
carriages  kept  ready  for  the  journey  of  the  King  of  England 
to  Anet  were  covered  by  a  pretence  of  hunting.  He  was 
only  to  be  attended  (as  in  fact  he  was)  by  the  Duke  of 
Perth,  his  former  sub-governor,  the  two  Hamiltons,  Middle- 
ton,  and  a  very  few  others. 


1708]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  45 

Perth  was  Scotch  ;  he  had  long  been  chancellor  of  Scot- 
lanJ,  the  first  and  most  authoritative  dignity  in  the  land  ; 
Suite  of  the  ^^  ^^  ^^^^  ^  military  dignity,  and  only  held  by 

King  of  England ;   thc  grcatcst  lords.     His  sons-in-law,  nephews, 

their  characters. 

and  nearest  relations  were  still  holding  the 
highest  offices,  with  the  principal  influence,  and  they  were 
all  in  the  secret,  and  ardent  promoters  of  the  enterprise. 
Perth  himself  had  one  of  the  finest,  best,  and  broadest  minds 
in  all  England ;  he  was  brave,  pious,  wise,  learned,  and  an 
excellent  officer,  faithful  to  the  last  degree.  The  Hamiltons 
were  brothers  of  the  Comtesse  de  Grammont,  of  the  highest 
rank  in  Scotland,  brave,  full  of  intelligence,  and  faithful. 
They,  through  their  sister,  had  mingled  much  in  the  society 
of  our  Court ;  they  were  poor,  and  had  their  own  little  points 
of  singularity.  Middleton  was  the  sole  secretary  of  State, 
because  he  had  managed  to  override  the  Duke  of  Melford, 
brother  of  the  Duke  of  Perth,  who  was  the  other  secretary 
with  no  power  but  the  name  since  the  exile  —  very  im- 
justly,  the  English  at  Saint-Germain  averred.  Middleton 
had  managed  to  have  him  kept  away;  so  that  he  did  not 
even  live  at  Saint-Germain.  Middleton's  wife  was  governess 
to  the  Princess  Royal  of  England,  and  had  the  queen's  entire 
confidence.  She  was  a  tall  woman,  well-made,  thin,  with  a 
devout  and  austere  expression.  She  and  her  husband  had 
the  mind  and  the  spirit  of  intrigue  of  two  demons.  Middle- 
ton,  Ijelonging  to  a  very  good  family,  saw  familiarly  the  best 
society  at  Versailles.  His  wife  was  Catholic,  he  Protestant, 
both  very  httle  of  either,  and  the  only  ones  at  Saint-Germain 
wlio  continued  to  receive  their  revenue.*;  from  England.  More 
tlifui  oiH-e  tlic.  S(;(ttl,ish  j)n)j((f.t,  proposed  ai  Saint-Germain, 
liad  Ih;(!Ii  rejcicted  hy  him  and  scorned  by  the  ([Ikmui,  whom 
li(!  ruled  coiuplcUdy.  This  (iuKi,  as  on  oMii-r  occasion.s,  h(^ 
was  in  the,  secret;  hut  as  our  (louit  had  now  taken  hold  of  it 


46  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG   DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  ii. 

efficaciously,  he  dared  not  oppose,  but  was  lukewarm  in  sup- 
porting it.  He  was  the  only  real  Mentor  whom  the  queen 
gave  to  the  king  her  son  for  the  expedition. 

At  last,  on  Wednesday,  March  6,  the  King  of  England 
started  from  Saint-Germain.  So  many  delays  could  leave  no 
doubt  that  England  was  already  warned.  It  was  hoped, 
however,  that  the  English  would  not  have  the  means  to 
oppose  the  expedition,  for  Sir  John  Leake  [the  Enghsh 
admiral]  had  sailed,  with  nearly  all  the  vessels  of  war  which 
remained  to  them,  to  escort  a  great  convoy  to  Portugal.  We 
were  therefore  surprised  on  the  following  Sunday,  when  the 
Chevalier  de  Fretteville  arrived  at  Versailles  with  the  news 
that  Leake,  driven  back  by  contrary  winds  to  Torbay  (where, 
it  was  afterwards  known,  he  was  hiding  all  the  time),  was 
now  blockading  Dunkerque,  where  we  had  just  disembarked 
the  troops  of  the  expedition.  Fretteville  brought  a  letter 
from  the  King  of  England,  complaining  loudly  of  this  dis- 
embarkation ;  he  wanted  to  drive  matters  on,  force  his  way 
out  at  any  cost,  and  get  to  Scotland.  He  made  such  remon- 
strances at  Dunkerque  that  the  Chevalier  de  Forbin  could 
not  avoid  sending  out  the  Chevaliers  de  Tourouvre  and 
Nangis  to  reconnoitre  the  EngHsh  fleet ;  on  whose  report  it 
seemed  possible  to  pass  out,  and  the  troops  were  at  once  re- 
embarked.  But  here  came  another  mischance,  —  always 
supposing  that  the  expedition  had  not  already  failed  before 
it  ever  left  Saint-Germain.  The  Princess  of  England  had 
had  the  measles,  and  was  beginning  to  be  convalescent 
about  the  time  of  her  brother's  departure.  He  had  been 
prevented  from  seeing  her,  lest  he  should  take  the  disease 
and  be  hindered  from  leaving.  But  just  as  the  troops  were 
finally  embarked,  the  king  broke  out  with  it  at  Dunkerque. 
Never  was  a  man  in  such  despair  ;  he  wanted  them  to  wrap 
him  up  in  coverlets  and  carry  him  on  board  ship.     The  doc- 


1708]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-STMON.  47 

tors  cried  out  that  it  would  kill  him  to  a  certainty,  and  that 
he  must  remain  behind.  Two  of  the  five  Scotch  deputies  at 
Montrouge  had  been  sent  to  Scotland  two  weeks  earlier  to 
announce  the  arrival  of  their  king  with  arms  and  troops. 
The  movements  that  announcement  would  produce  made  it 
all  the  more  desirable  the  fleet  should  set  sail  immediately. 
At  last  the  King  of  England,  half-cured  and  very  weak,  was 
resolutely  determined  to  embark,  and  did  so  March  19,  in 
spite  of  the  doctors  and  most  of  his  attendants.  The  English 
vessels  had  retired ;  the  French  set  sail  at  six  in  the  morn- 
ing with  a  fair  wind,  in  a  fog  which  lost  them  to  sight  by 
seven  o'clock. 

That  night  they  were  caught  in  a  furious  gale  and  were 

forced  to  anchor  off  the  banks  at  Ostend.     Forty-eight  hours 

after  the  departure  of   our  squadron  twenty- 

The  fleet  delayed  f  ^  '' 

and  chased ;  fail-  sevcu  English  vcssels  of  War  appeared  off 
Dunkerque ;  many  English  troops  marched 
towards  Ostend,  and  Dutch  troops  to  La  Brille,  intending  to 
embark.  Eambure,  who  commanded  one  of  our  frigates,  was 
parted  from  the  squadron  in  the  gale  and  forced  to  he-to  off 
the  coast  of  Picardy.  As  soon  as  he  could,  he  started  to 
rejoin  the  squadron,  which  he  supposed  to  be  then  at  Scot- 
land. He  shaped  his  course  for  Edinburgh  but  found  no 
vessel  on  the  way.  As  he  reached  the  mouth  of  the  river  he 
saw  that  the  sea  was  covered  with  little  craft  of  all  kinds, 
which  he  felt  he  could  not  evade,  and  therefore  thought  best 
to  approach  them  witli  a  good  grace.  Tlie  masters  told  him 
thiit  tlioy  cxp(!cto(l  the  king,  but  liad  no  news  of  him  ;  ho  was 
awaited  witli  iiiipiLticiirc,  ;  luid  tliis  great  fleet  of  little  vessels 
had  come  out  to  meet  him  and  bring  him  jtilols  sd  Ihat  liis 
sliipH  might  enter  the  river  and  readi  lylinlnirgh,  where  all 
were  in  bojie  and  joy.  h'ainl)ur(5,  nmch  surprised  that  the 
squadron  bearing  the  King  of  Kngland   had   imt  yet  arrived, 


48  MEMOIRS  OF   THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  ii. 

and  also  at  the  publicity  given  to  its  movements,  sailed  on 
towards  Edinburgh,  meeting  more  and  more  of  the  small 
vessels,  all  of  which  hailed  him  in  the  same  manner.  From 
one  of  them  a  Scottish  gentleman  boarded  the  frigate,  who 
told  him  of  the  adhesion  of  the  principal  lords  (whom  he 
named),  saying  that  they  had  twenty  thousand  men  ready  to 
take  arms,  and  that  the  city  was  only  waiting  the  king's 
arrival  to  proclaim  him.  Rambure  at  once  descended  the 
river  seeking  to  rejoin  the  squadron.  As  he  reached  the 
mouth  of  it  he  heard  cannon  at  sea,  and  soon  after  saw 
vessels  of  war.  Getting  nearer  to  the  mouth  of  the  river,  he 
made  out  Forbin's  squadron  pursued  by  twenty-six  large 
vessels  of  war,  and  a  quantity  of  other  craft ;  but  he  soon 
lost  sight  both  of  our  own  squadron  and  of  the  advanced 
guard  of  the  enemy.  He  hastened  his  speed  as  much  as 
possible  to  rejoin  our  ships,  but  they  had  passed  the  mouth 
of  the  river  before  he  could  reach  them.  He  tried  for  a  long 
time  to  profit  by  the  fleetness  of  his  frigate,  but  being  con- 
stantly cut  off  by  the  vessels  of  the  enemy's  rear-guard  and 
in  danger  of  being  taken,  he  decided  to  return  to  Dunkerque, 
whence  he  despatched  to  the  Court  this  sad  and  disquieting 
news.  It  was  followed  five  or  six  days  later  by  that  of  the 
return  of  the  King  of  England  to  Dunkerque;  where  he 
arrived  on  the  7th  of  April  with  a  few  of  his  vessels,  much 
disabled. 

This  was  the  first  occasion  on  which  the  King  of  England 
took,,  for  his  incognito,  the  name  of  Chevaher  de  Saint- 
First  occasion  on  George;  and  the  first  time  also  that  his  ene- 
which  the  Pre-       ^^^^  j^- ^^^  ^^^^  ^j  ^^^  Pretender  ;  both  of 

tender  was  so  o  ' 

named.  which  uamcs  havc  since  remained  to  him.     He 

showed  much  will  and  firmness,  which  he  spoiled  by  a  docil- 
ity which  was  the  fruit  of  a  bad  education,  narrow  and 
austere,  given  to  him  by  the  queen  his  mother,  partly  from 


1708]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  49 

mistaken  piety,  partly  from  the  desire  to  hold  him  in  a  posi- 
tion of  fear  and  dependence;  for  with  all  her  sanctity  she 
always  wanted  to  rule. 

The  King  of  England  arrived  at  Saint-Germain  on  Friday, 
the  20th  of  April,  and  came  with  the  queen  to  Marly  on 
Meeting  of  the  the  foUowing  Sunday,  to  visit  the  king.  I 
kings  at  Marly.  ^^.^g  ^^^  curious  to  scc  the  interview.  The 
weather  was  fine.  The  king,  followed  by  all  the  Court,  came 
out  by  the  front  portico.  Just  as  he  was  about  to  descend  the 
steps  of  the  terrace  and  we  saw  the  Court  of  Saint-Germain 
advancing  slowly  at  the  end  of  the  alley  of  the  Perspective, 
Middleton  approached  the  king  alone  with  a  very  peculiar 
air,  and  clasped  his  thigh.  The  king  received  him  graciously 
and  spoke  to  him  three  or  four  times,  looking  at  him  fixedly 
in  a  manner  that  would  have  embarrassed  another  man ; 
then  he  advanced  towards  the  alley.  As  both  parties  ap- 
proached each  other  they  bowed;  then  the  two  kings  de- 
tached themselves  each  from  his  Court,  hastened  their  steps 
equably,  and,  with  the  same  measured  manner  embraced 
each  other  several  times.  Grief  was  painted  on  the  faces 
of  all  these  poor  people.  The  Duke  of  Perth  made  his  bow 
to  the  king,  who  received  him  civilly,  but  only  as  a  great 
seigneur.  They  all  walked  back  to  the  chateau  with  a  few 
indifferent  words  that  died  upon  the  lips.  The  queen  and 
the  two  kings  entered  Mme.  de  Maintenon's  apartment.  The 
Princess  Royal  remained  with  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne 
and  all  the  Court  in  the  salon.  The  Prince  do  Conti,  with 
his  natural  inquisitiveness,  laid  hold  of  Middleton ;  the 
Duke  of  Perth  joined  the  Due  de  Beauvillicrs  and  Torcy. 
The  few  other  Englishmen,  more  welcomed  than  usual  in 
hopes  of  making  them  talk,  were  dispersed  among  the  cour- 
tiers, who  drew  notliing  out  of  their  reserve  hut  a  protended 
ignorance  which    told   much,  and  comjjlainta  in  general  of 


50  MEMOIRS  OF   THE  DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  ir. 

fate  and  hindrance.  The  two  kings  were  tete-d-tete  for  a 
long  time,  during  which  Mme.  de  Maintenon  conversed  with 
the  queen.  They  came  out  in  the  course  of  an  hour;  a 
short  and  melancholy  promenade  followed,  which  ended  the 
visit. 

Middleton  was  violently  suspected  of  having  warned  the 
English.  They  feigned  to  suspect  nothing,  but  they  took 
their  precautions  noiselessly,  hid  their  naval  forces,  pretended 
to  send  the  greater  part  with  a  convoy  to  Portugal,  held 
ready  the  few  troops  they  had  in  England  and  moved  them 
towards  Scotland,  where  they  sent  a  number  of  their  trusted 
agents.  The  queen,  under  various  pretexts  of  friendship 
and  confidence  kept  the  Duke  of  Hamilton  in  London,  he 
being  the  most  influential  man  in  Scotland,  the  soul  and 
leader  of  this  whole  affair,  and  about  to  return  there.  The 
queen  gave  no  information  to  parliament  until  the  affair 
became  public  and  had  failed ;  she  made  no  search  for  any 
one  concerned  in  it ;  she  wisely  avoided  any  act  that  might 
drive  Scotland  to  desperation.  Such  conduct  greatly  in- 
creased her  authority  in  her  own  country,  attached  all  hearts 
to  her,  and  removed  all  desire  to  stir  further  in  the  matter 
by  revealing  the  little  hope  there  was  of  success.  Thus 
failed  a  project  that  was  well  and  secretly  conducted  until 
its  execution,  which  was  pitiable ;  and  with  this  project 
failed  also  that  of  the  revolt  of  the  Low-Countries,  to  which 
no  further  thought  could  be  given. 

Mme.  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  was  pregnant,  and  much 
inconvenienced  by  it.  The  king  wanted  to  go  to  Fontaine- 
strange  speech  of  blcau,  against  his  usual  custom  at  the  begin- 
theking.  T^iTig  of  the  Summer,  and  he   announced  the 

journey.  But  he  wished  all  the  trips  to  Marly  to  be  con- 
tinued meanwhile.  His  granddaughter  amused  him  much, 
and   he   could   not   do   without  her ;   but  so   much   moving 


1708]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUC   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  51 

about  was  not  suitable  for  her  condition.  Mnie.  de  Mainte- 
non  was  very  uneasy ;  Fagon  slipped  in  his  advice.  This 
annoyed  the  king,  long  accustomed  to  deny  himself  nothing, 
and  spoiled  by  havmg  his  mistresses,  when  they  were  preg- 
nant or  scarcely  out  of  childbed,  travel  about  with  him,  and 
always  in  full  dress.  These  representations  about  the  Marly 
trips  irritated  him,  but  could  not  stop  them.  AU  he  did 
was  to  put  off  one  of  them  from  the  Monday  week  after 
Easter  to  the  Wednesday  of  the  following  week ;  and  this 
in  spite  of  all  that  was  said  and  done  to  either  prevent  it 
or  obtain  permission  for  the  princess  to  stay  at  Versailles. 

The  Saturday  following  the  arrival  at  Marly,  as  the  king 
was  walking  about  after  his  mass,  and  amusing  himself 
watching  the  carp  in  the  basin  between  the  chateau  and  the 
Perspective,  we  saw  the  Duchesse  du  Lude  coming  towards 
us  on  foot,  though  there  were  no  ladies  with  the  king,  as 
there  seldom  were  in  the  mornmgs.  He  saw  she  had  some- 
tiimg  of  importance  to  say  to  him  and  he  went  to  meet  her ; 
when  he  got  within  a  little  distance  we  all  stopped  and  left 
him  to  join  her  alone.  The  tete-d,-Ute  was  not  long.  The 
duchess  went  back,  and  the  king  returned  to  us  and  then  to 
the  carp  without  saying  a  word.  Every  one  saw  what  the 
trouble  was,  but  no  one  was  anxious  to  speak.  Presently  the 
king,  standing  close  to  the  basin,  looked  at  the  chief  persons 
present  and  said,  with  an  air  of  vexation,  but  without  address- 
ing liiinsclf  to  any  one:  "The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  has 
miscarried."  Whercuyxm  M.  de  La  Kochefoucauld  exclaimed  ; 
M.  de  Bouillon,  the  Due  do  Tresmes,  and  the  IMardchal  de 
Boulllers  echoed  the  words  in  a  low  voice,  and  then  M.  de 
La  Kochefoucauld  (exclaimed  again,  still  lnudcr,  that  it  was  a 
great  misfortune,  and,  as  she  had  niiscai-ried  at  other  times,  she 
might  have  no  more  children.  "  Well,  HUp[)ose  it  were  so," 
said  the  king,  angrily ;  "  what  is  that  to  ine  ?     Has  n't  she  a 


52  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  ii. 

son  already  ?  And  if  he  dies  there 's  the  Due  de  Berry  of  an 
age  to  marry  and  have  one.  What  does  it  signify  to  me 
whether  one  or  the  other  of  them  succeed  me  ?  —  they  are  all 
equally  my  grandchildren."  Then  suddenly  he  added  im- 
petuously :  "  Thank  God,  she  has  miscarried,  since  she  had  to 
do  so ;  I  shall  not  be  thwarted  in  my  trips  and  everytliing 
else  I  want  to  do  by  the  objections  of  the  doctors  and  the 
arguments  of  those  matrons.  I  can  go  and  come  as  I 
choose;  they  will  leave  me  in  peace."  A  silence  in  which 
you  might  have  heard  an  ant  run  succeeded  this  outburst. 
Every  one  lowered  his  eyes  and  hardly  dared  to  breathe ; 
each  man  was  stupefied.  Even  the  gardeners  and  the  people 
engaged  about  the  works  were  motionless.  The  silence 
lasted  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour. 

The  king  broke  it,  leaning  on  the  balustrade,  to  talk  about 
the  carp.  No  one  answered.  Then  he  spoke  about  them 
to  the  builders,  who  as  a  usual  thing  had  no  conversation 
with  him;  but  now  they  talked  of  the  carp.  But  it  all 
dragged,  and  the  king  went  away  soon  after.  As  soon  as 
we  dared  we  looked  at  each  other  out  of  his  sight ;  our 
eyes  as  they  met  said  all.  Every  one  present  was  for  the 
moment  the  confidant  of  everybody  else.  They  wondered, 
marvelled,  shrugged  their  shoulders.  Far  as  we  are  to-day 
from  that  scene,  it  is  as  plain  as  ever  to  my  sight.  M.  de 
La  Eochefoucauld  was  furious,  and  rightly  so  this  time  ;  the 
first  equerry  trembled  with  horror;  I  examined  these  per- 
sons with  all  my  eyes  and  ears ;  and  I  was  pleased  with 
myself  for  having  long  ago  discovered  that  the  king  loved 
and  cared  for  no  one  but  himself,  and  was  for  himself  only, 
to  his  dying  day.  This  strange  speech  of  his  echoed  far 
beyond  ]\Iarly. 

Chance  often  conveys  through  valets  things  which  we 
think  to  be  carefully  hidden.     It  happened  that   some   of 


1708]  MEMOIRS   OF   TPIE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  53 

mine  were  friends  of  a  saddler  in  Paris,  who  was  working 
secretly  on  equipments  for  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  at  the 
TheDucdeBour-  War.  He  had  the  indiscretion  to  tell  this  and 
deruned^t^tife  show  liis  work  to  my  men,  requesting  them 
army  in  Flanders,  ^q^  ^q  iq\\  ^  secret  which  he  liimself  was 
unable  to  keep.  They  told  me.  This  opened  my  eyes  about 
a  very  queer  journey  Chamillart  had  lately  made  to  Flanders. 
He  left  Versailles  the  evening  of  Easter  Sunday  and  returned 
to  Marly  on  the  20th  of  April,  being  twelve  days  on  the 
journey.  His  very  languishing  state  of  health  made  the 
journey  remarkable,  which  was  all  the  more  so  for  the  day 
on  which  he  started.  I  made  my  reflections  on  the  probable 
destination  of  Mgr.  le  Due  de  Bourgogne.  I  saw  nothing  for 
him  but  the  Khine  or  Flanders  ;  and  this  voyage  of  Chamil- 
lart's  made  me  certain  it  was  Flanders. 

One  of  the  first  evenings  after  we  reached  Marly,  the 
weather  being  very  fine,  M.  de  Beauvilliers,  wanting  to  talk 
Curious  conver-  with  mc,  took  me  to  the  lower  end  of  the  garden 
Dul°de'lB?au'^^  near  the  pond,  where  all  is  very  open  and  no 
viiiiers.  ouc  Can  be  overheard.     I  had  resolved  to  speak 

to  him  about  the  destination  of  the  Due  de  Bourgogne, 
and  I  did  it  now.  He  was  astonished  that  I  knew  any- 
thing of  it ;  I  told  him  how  it  was,  and  he  at  once  began  to 
praise  the  appointment  as  the  only  good  resolution  that 
could  have  been  taken.  He  said  that  in  the  great  dis- 
couragement of  affairs  it  was  most  important  to  inspirit 
them  and  give  fresh  vigour  to  the  troo])S  througli  the  presence 
of  an  heir  to  the  throne ;  that  it  was,  moreover,  indecent 
that  he  sliould  languish  in  idleness  at  his  age  when  the 
house  was  afire  in  iill  directions;  that  the  King  of  England 
went  to  the.  wai'K  ;  tliiit  it  was  iiion!  tliiiii  tiiiui  tJic  Due  de. 
l)(!rry  kn(!W  somothiiig  of  war,  but  it  was  obviously  nut  pos- 
nihlc,  to  H(!nd  him   and    keep   hack  his  ckler  brother ;  and 


54  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  ii. 

he  added  tliat  license  had  got  to  such  a  pitch  in  the  army 
of  Flanders,  through  the  very  men  who  ought  to  have  pre- 
vented it,  that  it  had  come  to  be  the  principal  cause  of 
disasters,  and  there  was  no  longer  any  remedy  to  be  looked 
for  except  through  the  authority  of  the  prince. 

I  fully  agreed  to  what  he  said  about  the  idleness  of  the 
princes,  and  the  utility  of  training  them  to  war;  but  I 
ventured  to  contest  the  rest.  I  said  it  was  much  to  be 
desired  that  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  had  continued  to  com- 
mand in  the  armies ;  but  I  insisted  that  after  discontinuing 
to  do  so  through  several  campaigns,  after  so  many  losses 
and  disasters,  with  an  army  in  need  of  everything,  with 
troops  accustomed  to  distrust  the  capacity  of  their  generals 
and  taught,  by  force  of  bad  example,  a  habit  of  not  holding 
firm  before  the  enemy  and  of  thinking  themselves  beaten 
before  they  were  so,  it  seemed  to  me  that  a  time  so  sad, 
with  our  troops  on  the  defensive,  was  not  a  proper  moment 
to  place  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  at  the  head  of  an  army 
which  thought  it  did  well  if  it  did  not  retreat.  "But,"  I 
added,  "the  worst  of  all  these  injurious  conditions  is  the 
presence  of  the  Due  de  Yendome."  "  Eh  ! "  cried  the  Due  de 
Beauvilliers,  interrupting  me,  "  it  is  precisely  for  that  reason 
that  the  presence  of  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  with  the  army 
in  Flanders  is  so  necessary.  There  is  none  but  he  whose 
authority  can  stir  the  laziness  of  M.  de  Vendome ;  he  alone 
can  foil  his  obstinacy,  and  compel  him  to  take  precautions 
his  negligence  of  which  has  often  cost  so  dear  and  come  so 
near  to  losing  everything.  Nothing  but  the  presence  of  the 
Due  de  Bourgogne  can  stir  the  lethargy  of  the  commanders, 
teach  them  promptitude,  check  the  license  of  the  soldiers, 
and  re-estabhsh  order  and  subordination  in  the  army,  which 
M.  de  Vendome  has  totally  ruined  since  he  commanded  in 
Flanders." 


1708]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  55 

I  could  not  help  smiling  at  such  confidence,  nor  keep 
myself  from  replying  that  nothing  of  all  that  would  happen  ; 
on  the  contrary,  it  would  be  the  ruin  of  the  Due  de  Bour- 
gogne.  It  would  be  difficult  to  describe  the  amazement  of 
the  duke  at  this  reply.  I  let  him  interrupt  me,  and  when 
he  had  finished  I  asked  him  to  listen  patiently  to  what  I 
had  to  say,  and  then  I  explained  myself  at  length. 

I  said  that  to  judge  as  I  did  it  was  only  necessary  to 
know  the  men,  and  to  add  to  that  a  knowledge  of  the  Court, 
and  of  the  army,  which  would  become  a  Court  as  soon  as  the 
Due  de  Bourgogne  had  joined  it ;  that  fire  and  water  were 
not  more  different,  nor  more  incompatible  than  the  Due  de 
Bourgogne  and  M.  de  Vendome.  The  one  was  pious,  shy, 
conscientious  to  excess  ;  self-contained,  dehberate,  weighing 
and  estimating  all  things  ;  high-strung  nevertheless,  and  per- 
emptory ;  but,  with  all  his  spirit,  simple,  self-controlled,  con- 
siderate ;  fearing  evil,  reluctant  to  form  suspicions ;  relying 
on  the  true  and  the  good,  knowing  very  httle  of  those  with 
whom  he  dealt ;  sometimes  uncertain,  usually  absent-minded, 
and  too  much  given  to  minutiae.  The  other,  on  the  contrary, 
was  bold,  audacious,  overbearing,  impudent,  despising  others, 
self-satisfied,  with  a  confidence  that  no  experience  had  been 
able  to  check  ;  incapable  of  restraint,  discretion,  or  respect ; 
above  all,  incapable  of  bearing  a  yoke  ;  proud  to  the  zenith  in 
all  sorts  of  ways,  bitter  and  ungovernable  in  dispute,  impos- 
sible to  convince  on  any  point ;  accustomed  to  rule,  vindic- 
tively insulting  under  any  contradiction,  always  singular  in  his 
opinions,  often  strange  ;  impatient  to  excess  of  a  greater  than 
he;  debauched,  both  Hhaniefully  and  abominably,  continually 
and  publicly  ;  proud  of  thi;  king's  liking,  so  openly  shown  for 
liimself  and  his  birth,  and  of  the  powiM-fnl  cabal  wliich 
Huatained  him;  fruitful  in  wilos,  and  vvitli  nuicli  intiilh^cl. ; 
knowing  well  the  persons  with  wliuni  he  dealt;  a  man  to 


56  MEMOIRS   OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  ii. 

whom  all  means  were  good ;  without  truth,  without  honour, 
without  honesty  of  any  kind;  with  a  brazen  forehead  that 
dared  all,  undertook  all,  maintained  all ;  to  whom  experience 
had  shown  that  he  could  do  all,  and  that  for  him  there  was 
nought  to  fear.  I  said  that,  this  being  so,  it  was  impossible 
that  these  two  men  should  not  quarrel;  that  public  affairs 
should  not  suffer ;  that  the  responsibility  for  untoward  events 
should  not  be  cast  from  one  to  the  other ;  that  the  army 
should  not  take  sides ;  that  the  stronger  should  not  destroy 
the  weaker ;  and  that  the  stronger  would  be  VendSme,  whom 
no  curb,  no  fear  would  restrain,  and  who,  with  the  help  of 
his  cabal,  would  ruin  the  young  prince,  and  ruin  him  beyond 
recall 

M.  de  Beauvilliers,  whose  patience  was  coming  to  an  end, 
wanted  to  speak  at  this  point,  but  I  conjured  him  to  be  so 
good  as  to  listen  to  me  to  the  end  of  a  matter  that  led  to 
something  farther.  "  Is  it  possible,"  he  answered,  "  that  you 
have  more  to  say  ? "  "  Yes,"  I  replied,  "  and  something  more 
important  still,  if  you  will  only  give  me  time."  I  then  told 
him  that  after  considering  the  army  we  must  come  to  the 
Court.  But  to  understand  this  it  is  necessary  to  remember 
what  I  have  already  explained  about  Mile,  de  Lislebonne, 
Mme.  d'Espinoy,  their  uncle  Vaudemont,  their  union  with 
Mile.  Choin  and  Mme.  la  Duchesse,  on  the  one  hand,  with 
MM.  du  Maine  and  de  Vendome  on  the  other,  and  their 
power  over  Chamillart  and  Mme.  de  Maintenon  through 
those  persons. 

I  told  j\I.  de  Beauvilliers,  therefore,  that  he  must  add  to 
all  I  had  just  represented  to  him  the  part  that  the  Court 
cabals  would  play  in  the  affair.  "The  king,  monsieur,"  I 
said  to  him,  "  is  old,  and  you  know  how  people  reckon  on  the 
future,  especially  when  there  is  no  hope  to  change  the  pres- 
ent.   Mile.  Choin  is  frigid  to  the  Due  and  Duchesse  de  Bour- 


1708]  MEMOIRS   OF   THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  57 

gogne.  She  governs  Monse'gneur  between  the  Prince  de 
Conti  and  M.  de  VendOme.  For  the  present  all  those  people 
are  living  together  in  the  closest  union ;  they  are  a  group 
that  make  but  one  person.  It  is  their  interest  to  possess 
Monseigneur  and  keep  others  away  by  their  own  solidity, 
and  that  interest  will  last  as  long  as  the  king  lives ;  but  as 
soon  as  Monseigneur  is  on  the  throne,  each  will  pull  for  him- 
self or  herself,  at  the  cost  of  the  present  intimacy,  and  the 
race  will  be  to  whoever  shall  get  chief  possession  of  a  prince 
too  shallow  to  choose,  too  blind  to  see  anything  whatever  by 
himself.  M.  de  Bourgogne  is  twenty-six  years  old.  His 
mind,  his  virtue,  his  application  have  won  him  a  reputation 
in  Europe,  and  the  highest  hopes  of  all  Frenchmen.  He  has 
succeeded  in  two  campaigns.  He  succeeds  even  more  in  the 
councils.  The  Court  regards  him  with  a  respect  it  cannot 
withhold,  although  it  fears  his  morals,  which  have  already 
annoyed  the  king  on  more  than  one  occasion.  An  heir  to 
the  throne  who  becomes  dauphin  with  these  advantages,  will 
he  not  naturally  be  the  soul  of  the  government,  and  the  dis- 
penser of  favours  under  a  father  by  that  time  an  old  king, 
and  one  who  has  never  been  educated  or  taught  to  apply  his 
mind  ?  Where  are  the  ministers,  the  princes,  the  courtiers 
who  could  then  compete  with  him  ?  Those  who  now  govern 
Monseigneur  have  the  most  urgent  interest  in  preventing  his 
son  from  ruling  liim ;  but  it  will  be  too  late  if  the  death  of 
the  king  finds  the  young  prince  with  his  present  reputation  ; 
tlierefore  they  have  no  other  resource  than  to  attempt  to  rol) 
liiin  of  it  in  the  king's  hfotimo.  To  reach  tliis  end  occasions 
iiii^lit  not  l)e  found  in  tin;  ordinary  life  of  the  Court;  but  at 
Llic  war,  at  tin;  h(!iul  of  troops  discouraged,  undisciplined,  lack- 
ing everything,  with  tlie  I'atal  liabit  of  expecting  reverses,  and 
under  a  geiKiral  whose;  liccinsc!,  (!afl(5,  and  povvcM-  have  won  him 
tiie  heart  of  tlie  common  soldiiirs  and   llic.  snh-oHicers,  occa- 


58  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG   DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  ii. 

sions  will  be  found.  The  cries  of  the  army  wiU  then  echo 
back  to  the  town,  the  kingdom,  the  Court.  Monseigneur 
will  be  primed  against  him  and  cast  the  first  stone,  and  the 
courtiers,  who  already  dread  his  austerity,  will  toss  the  stone 
from  hand  to  hand,  fearing  nothing  since  Monseigneur  threw 
it.  When  that  happens,  what  do  you  think  the  people  I  have 
named  to  you  will  do  ?  What  gains  to  themselves  will  they 
not  draw  out  of  it  ?  What  ^vires  will  they  not  pull  behind 
the  tapestries  ?  Mme.  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  will  weep 
but  arguments  will  be  wanted  then,  not  tears,  and  who  is  to 
produce  them  against  this  torrent  ?  Mme.  de  Maintenon  will 
be  grieved  for  her  princess,  but  persuaded  over  by  M.  du 
Maine ;  and  the  king,  angry  and  indignant,  will  hsten  to  the 
wily,  adroit,  and  underhanded  thrusts  of  that  dear  son  of  his 
loves.  You  will  then  see  Vend5me  issuing  glorious,  and  Mgr. 
the  Due  de  Bourgogne  ruined,  ruined  at  the  Court  in  France 
and  throughout  all  Europe." 

M.  de  BeauviUiers,  with  all  his  gentleness  and  patience,  had 
great  difficulty  in  letting  me  get  to  an  end  of  what  I  had 
to  say ;  then,  with  severe  gravity,  he  reproved  me  for  letting 
myself  indulge  in  that  way  such  fantastic  ideas,  in  which 
there  was  no  possibility,  the  only  foundation  for  them  being 
in  my  disgust  at  M.  de  Yendome's  defects,  my  aversion  to  his 
rank  and  birth,  and  my  impatience  at  the  favour  in  which  I 
saw  him.  He  added  that  whatever  Yendome  might  be,  he 
was  not  so  blind  as  to  risk  a  struggle  against  an  heir  to  the 
throne,  whose  reputation  was  the  consolation  of  all  French- 
men, the  hope  of  the  Court,  the  surprise  of  the  world,  enemy 
though  it  be  to  virtue ;  one,  moreover,  whom  the  kmg,  in 
spite  of  what  I  had  said,  loved  with  something  more  than 
mere  esteem,  and  whose  wife  made  all  his  domestic  pleasure 
and  Mme.  de  Maintenon's.  Then  the  duke  reverted  with 
some  bitterness  to  my  prejudices,  to  the  lengths  to  which  my 


1708]  MEMOIRS  Or  THE   DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  59 

iinagination  and  my  aversions  led  me ;  he  did  not  say  my 
absurdities,  because  he  was  much  too  circumspect  to  use  that 
word,  but  he  made  me  feel  the  weight  of  it  all  the  same.  I 
answered  that,  without  being  convinced  by  his  arguments 
against  mine,  I  submitted  to  his  knowledge  and  intelligence, 
especially  as  it  related  to  a  matter  already  decided,  about 
which  there  was  nothing  to  discuss ;  but  that  I  should  al- 
ways have  reproached  myself  if  I  had  not  confided  to  him 
my  fears ;  and  that  no  one  could  wish  more  ardently  than  I 
there  might  be  no  grounds  for  them.  On  that  he  became 
serene  and  began  to  talk  to  me  about  the  conduct  which  the 
Due  de  Bourgogne  ought  to  propose  to  himself  in  the  army, 
as  to  the  importance  of  which  we  readily  agreed. 

I  will  not  omit  a  trifling  event  to  which  I  was  a  witness 
during  this  very  trip  to  Marly.  The  king,  about  five  o'clock 
_      .      .  in  the  afternoon,  came  out  on  foot  and  passed 

The  king  picks  -'■ 

Samuel  Bernard's  bcforc  all  the  pavilious  on  the  Marly  side. 
He  stopped  before  one,  which  was  Desmarets' 
[then  controller  of  finance],  who  at  that  moment  appeared 
with  the  famous  banker,  Samuel  Bernard,  whom  he  had 
invited  out  to  dine  and  work  with  him.  Bernard  was  the 
richest  banker  in  Europe,  and  did  the  heaviest  and  safest 
business  in  money.  He  felt  his  strength,  and  exacted  pro- 
portionable deference.  The  C(jntrollers-general,  who  had 
more  to  do  with  him  than  he  with  them,  treated  him  always 
with  much  respect  and  distinction.  The  king  said  to  Des- 
marets tliat  ]i(i  was  very  glad  to  .see  M.  Bernard;  then,  im- 
rn(!difi,t(!ly  after,  lie  said  to  the  latter :  "  You  are  a  man  who 
h.'iH  probiibly  never  seen  Marly  ;  come  and  sec  it  with  mo, 
and  I  will  nsturn  you  iifUwwardK  to  Desmarets."  Bernard 
I'<»11ovv(mI  him,  ;ui(l  tliiitiighoul,  (he  \v;ilk  llic  king  spoke  to 
none  bnl,  liini,  and  took  him  cvcryvvhere  and  .showed  him 
(everything  with  the,  gnices  he  knew  m(»  well  how  to  enii)loy 


60  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG   DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  ii. 

when  he  wanted  to  flatter.  I  wondered,  and  I  was  not  the 
only  one,  at  this  species  of  prostitution  in  the  king,  so  chary 
of  his  words,  to  a  man  of  Bernard's  stamp.  It  was  not 
long  before  I  heard  the  cause,  and  then  I  wondered  still 
more  at  the  straits  to  which  great  kings  are  sometimes 
reduced. 

Desmarets  was  now  at  his  wits'  end.  All  things  were 
lacking,  and  money  was  exhausted.  He  had  rapped  at 
every  banker's  door  in  Paris.  But  so  often  and  so  curtly 
had  all  sorts  of  agreements  been  broken  that  he  found 
closed  doors  and  excuses  everywhere.  Samuel  Bernard, 
like  the  rest,  would  advance  him  nothing.  In  vain  Des- 
marets represented  to  him  the  pressing  need,  and  the  enor- 
mous gains  he  had  already  made  out  of  the  king.  Bernard 
was  immovable.  The  king  and  the  minister  were  cruelly 
embarrassed.  Desmarets  told  the  king  that,  looking  at  the 
matter  all  round,  there  was  nobody  but  Bernard  who  could 
get  him  out  of  trouble,  because  he  had  immense  funds 
everywhere.  The  question  was  how  to  conquer  his  will, 
and  his  insolent  obstinacy,  and  Desmarets  suggested  that, 
being  a  man  who  was  crazy  with  vanity,  he  was  capable  of 
opening  his  purse  if  the  king  would  deign  to  flatter  him. 
In  the  pressing  necessity  of  his  affairs  the  king  consented  ; 
and  in  order  to  try  this  expedient  with  less  indecency  and 
without  risking  a  refusal,  Desmarets  suggested  the  little 
play  I  have  just  related.  Bernard  was  duped.  He  returned 
from  his  walk  with  the  king  so  enchanted  that  he  said  of 
his  own  accord  he  would  rather  risk  ruin  than  leave  a  prince 
who  had  shown  him  such  favour  in  trouble ;  and  he  praised 
the  king  with  the  utmost  enthusiasm.  Desmarets  at  once 
profited  by  his  feehngs,  and  got  much  more  out  of  him  than 
had  been  at  first  proposed. 


Ill 


During  this  same  trip  to  Marly,  Mansart  died  very  sud- 
denly.    He  was  superintendent  of  buildings,  and  a  person- 
age on  whom  we  may  well  pause  for  a  moment. 

Death,  fortune,        °  . 

and  character  He  was  a  tall,  well-made  man  with  a  pleasant 
face,  from  the  dregs  of  the  people,  with  a  great 
deal  of  natural  wit  turned  wholly  to  clever  ingratiation ; 
though  he  never  was  purged  of  the  coarseness  contracted 
in  his  former  condition.  First  a  drummer,  then  a  stone- 
cutter, mason's  apprentice,  and  finally  groom,  he  ingratiated 
himself  with  the  great  Mansart,^  who  has  left  so  fine  a 
reputation  among  French  architects,  and  who  employed 
him  on  the  king's  buildings,  and  tried  to  teach  him  and 
make  something  out  of  him.  People  suspected  him  of  being 
Frangois  Mansart's  bastard,  but  he  said  he  was  his  nephew, 
and  sometime  after  Frangois'  death,  which  happened  in  1 666, 
the  younger  man  took  his  name,  hoping  to  make  himself 
known  to  the  public  eye,  and  succeeded  in  domg  so.  He 
rose  by  degrees,  induced  the  king  to  notice  him,  and  profited 
so  well  by  his  familiarity  with  seigneurs,  valets,  and  masons 
that  the  king,  finding  in  him  all  the  charms  of  obscurity  and 
vagueness,  fancied  he  also  found  the  uncle's  talents  in  him, 
and  hastened  to  get  rid  of  Villacerf,  his  former  superinten- 
dent, in  order  to  put  Mansart  in  liis  place.     He  was  ignorant 

1  Francois  ManHart,  or  MnnBiird,  b.  1508,  il,  1(300,  huilt  the  hdtol  Cnrnn- 
viilct  in  ruris,  the  Clifltciiu  ilc  MiiiHoriH,  mid  tlic  Viil-tlv-Orftfo.  JuU'h- 
Iliu(l{»iin  ManHart, h.  1040,(1.  17(W,  hnill  tint  olilVtoaiix  of  Marly  and  Dam- 
jiicrrc,  th»!  palac«  of  VciHaillcH,  llict  (.^roat  Trianon,  and  tlio  donir  of  tiu> 
Invuiidca.  —  Tii. 


62  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  in. 

of  his  business.  De  Coste,  his  brother-in-law,  whom  he 
made  head  architect,  knew  no  more  than  he.  They  got  their 
plans,  designs,  and  ideas  from  a  designer  of  buildiags  named 
L'Assurance,  whom  they  kept,  as  much  as  they  could,  under 
lock  and  key. 

Mansart's  cunning  lay  in  coaxing  the  king  by  apparent 
trifles  into  long  and  costly  enterprises,  and  by  showing  him 
incomplete  plans,  especially  for  the  gardens,  which  instantly 
captured  his  mind  and  caused  him  to  make  suggestions ; 
then  Mansart  would  exclaim  that  he  never  should  have 
thought  of  what  the  king  proposed,  went  into  raptures, 
declared  he  was  but  a  scholar  compared  to  him,  and  so 
made  the  king  tumble  whichever  way  he  pleased  without 
suspecting  it.  Plans  in  hand  he  made  his  way  into  the 
cabinets,  and,  Httle  by  little,  into  all  of  them  and  at  all 
hours,  often  without  his  plans  and  without  having  any- 
thing to  say  about  his  business.  Fuially,  he  began  to 
mingle  in  the  conversation,  and  accustomed  the  king  to 
talk  with  him  about  the  news  of  the  day  and  other  matters. 
Sometimes  he  hazarded  questions,  but  he  chose  his  mo- 
ments ;  he  knew  the  king  to  perfection,  and  never  mistook 
the  time  to  be  famihar  or  to  keep  himself  reserved.  He 
would  show  specimens  of  this  privilege  during  the  king's 
walks,  in  order  to  let  people  know  what  he  could  do ;  but  he 
never  used  his  power  to  harm  any  one;  though  it  might 
have  been  dangerous  to  wound  him.  He  thus  acquired  a 
consideration  by  which  he  subdued  to  his  interests  not  only 
the  seigneurs  and  princes  of  the  blood,  but  the  bastards,  the 
ministers,  who  carefully  kept  on  good  terms  with  him,  and 
even  the  principal  household  valets. 

The  king,  who  thought  it  very  bad  if  the  courtiers  when 
ill  did  not  go  to  Fagon  and  submit  themselves  entirely  to 
him,   had   precisely   the   same   weakness   for    Mansart;    it 


1708]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  G3 

would  have  been  a  dangerous  short-coming  in  any  one  who 
built  buildings  or  made  gardens  not  to  have  given  himself 
wholly  up  to  Mansart,  who  on  his  side  thought  the  same 
thing  himself.  But  he  was  not  capable.  He  built  the 
bridge  at  Moulins,  and  thought  it  a  masterpiece  of  solidity, 
of  which  he  boasted  with  much  complacency.  Four  or 
five  months  after  it  was  finished,  Charlus,  father  of  the 
Due  de  L^vi,  came  to  the  king's  lever,  on  arriving  from  his 
estates,  which  are  close  to  Moulins.  He  was  a  clever  man, 
rather  discontented,  and  apt  to  be  caustic.  Mansart,  who 
was  present,  wanted  praises  about  his  bridge,  and  finally 
asked  the  king  to  inquire  about  it.  Charlus  said  nothing. 
The  king,  observing  that  he  did  not  enter  the  conversation, 
asked  him  for  news  of  the  bridge  at  Moulins.  "  Sire," 
replied  Charlus,  "I  don't  know  anything  since  it  went  off, 
but  I  think  it  must  be  near  Nantes  at  the  present  moment." 
"  What  do  you  think  I  am  talking  about  ? "  said  the  king. 
"  I  mean  the  bridge  at  Mouhns."  "  Yes,  sire,"  replied 
Charlus,  tranquilly,  "  the  bridge  at  Moulins ;  it  got  loose 
the  night  before  I  came  away  and  floated  off  down  the 
river."  The  king  and  Mansart  were  amazed,  and  the 
courtiers  turned  round  to  laugh.  The  fact  was  exactly  so. 
The  bridge  at  Blois,  built  by  Mansart  some  time  previously, 
had  played  him  the  same  trick. 

He  made  immense  sums  out  of  his  works  and  his  con- 
tracts, and  all  else  that  concerned  his  buildings,  of  which 
ho  was  the  absolute  master,  and  with  such  authority  that 
not  a  workman,  contractor,  or  ikmhoii  about  the  buildings 
would  have  dared  to  sj)c.'ik  oi-  make  the  slightest  fuss. 
As  h(!  had  no  taste,  nor  thi;  king  either,  he  never  executed 
anything  fine,  nor  even  convenient,  for  the  vast  ex])(MiseH 
he,  infiirr(!(l.  Monsoignenr  ceased  to  cniiiloy  him  nt 
M(!U(loM,    pcicciving    (hy    the   help  of    olhcis)    tliat    he    was 


64  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  iu. 

trying  to  embark  him  in  extravagant  works.  The  king, 
who  ought  to  have  been  very  grateful  to  Monseigneur  and 
displeased  with  Mansart,  did  all  he  could  to  reconcile  them, 
even  offering  to  share  largely  in  the  costs.  But  Monsei- 
gneur, nettled  at  being  taken  for  a  dupe,  excused  himself. 
Du  Mont  told  me  this  fact ;  he  was  always  angry  about  it. 
That  fine  chapel  at  Versailles,  fine  so  far  as  the  workman- 
ship and  the  ornamentation  go,  which  took  so  many  years 
and  cost  so  many  millions,  and  is  so  badly  proportioned, 
and  looks  as  if  it  were  going  to  crush  the  chateau,  was 
only  built  in  that  way  for  a  scheme.  Mansart  had  reckoned 
his  proportions  from  the  royal  pews  only,  because  the  king 
was  almost  never  likely  to  enter  the  chapel  from  below, 
and  he  made  this  horrible  excrescence  above  the  roof  of 
the  chateau  in  order  to  force  the  king  by  that  deformity 
to  raise  the  whole  chateau  one  story ;  if  the  war  had  not 
happened  just  at  that  time  it  would  have  been  done ;  mean- 
time Mansart  died.  A  colic  of  twelve  hours'  duration 
carried  him  off,  and  made  people  talk  a  good  deal.  Fagon 
laid  hands  on  him  and  condemned  him  gayly,  and  would 
not  let  them  give  him  anything  hot;  he  declared  Mansart 
had  killed  himself  at  dinner  with  too  much  ice  and  green 
peas  and  other  vegetable  delicacies,  with  which,  so  Fagon 
said,  he  regaled  himself  before  the  king  had  any  at  his  own 
table.  The  rumour  went  that  certain  fermiers  des  posies 
were  warned  that  Mansart  had  undertaken  to  show  the  kins 
certain  statements  against  them,  and  that  he  had  even 
obtained  the  promise  from  the  king  of  a  large  sum  of  money 
if  the  warning  proved  true ;  and  also  that  he  had  refused 
forty  thousand  francs  a  year  which  the  fermiers  had  offered 
him  to  desist  in  the  matter.  The  unnatural  swelling  of  his 
body  after  death,  and  certain  spots  found  when  they  opened 
it,  gave  ground  for  singular  rumours,  whether  true  or  false. 


1708]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  65 

The  march  of  the  army  under  Prince  Eugene  had  divided 

in  two  that  of  the  Elector,  who  had  followed  it  for  some 

_.  .  time.     It  seemed  easy  for  our  army,  by  cross- 

Disasters  in  ''  J  '     J 

Flanders ;  defeat  ing  the  Scheldt  and  burning  Audenarde,  to 
bar  the  country  from  the  enemy  and  render 
his  subsistence  very  difficult  and  ours  very  abundant, 
coming  as  it  did  by  water,  and  to  a  camp  which  could  not 
be  attacked.  M.  de  Vendome  agreed  to  all  that  and  alleged 
nothing  to  the  contrary,  but  to  execute  so  easy  a  project 
it  was  necessary  for  him  to  stir  from  his  present  quarters 
and  go  into  camp.  The  whole  difficulty  lay  in  M.  de 
Vendome's  personal  laziness ;  at  ease  in  his  quarters  he 
wanted  to  enjoy  them  as  long  as  he  could,  and  he  there- 
fore declared  that  this  movement,  which  they  would  always 
be  masters  of  making,  could  very  well  be  deferred.  The 
Due  de  Bourgogne,  supported  by  the  whole  army  and  even 
by  several  of  Vendome's  confidants,  represented  to  him 
vainly  that,  since  this  move  in  his  own  judgment  was  a 
right  one,  it  was  worth  more  taken  then  than  taken  later, 
that  there  was  no  difficulty  about  making  it,  but  delay  might 
possibly  hinder  or  prevent  it,  which,  by  Vendome's  own 
acknowledgment,  would  be  disastrous.  Vendome,  however, 
was  loath  to  undertake  the  fatigue  of  the  march  and  the 
change  of  quarters ;  he  regretted  as  usual  the  ease  he 
should  have  to  quit,  and  these  considerations  were  the 
stronger. 

Marll)orough  saw  clearly  that  Vendome  had  nothing  better 
or  more  important  to  do  than  to  make  that  movement,  nor 
he  anything  better  than  to  prevent  it.  To  make  it,  Vendome 
had  only  to  follow  the  short  string  of  a  bent  bow ;  to  stop 
him,  Marlborough  had  to  march  round  the  arch  of  that  bow, 
wliich  was  deeply  ciirved;  in  other  words,  Marlborough 
had  twenty -six  leagues  to  make,  ngaiu3t  VonJOnio's  six  at 

VOL.   II    —  G 


66  MEMOIRS  OF  TIIE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  hi. 

the  most.  The  enemy  marched  with  such  diligence  that 
they  managed  to  steal  three  forced  marches  before  Vendome 
suspected  it.  Warned  at  last,  he  despised,  as  he  usually  did, 
the  warning ;  convinced  that  he  could  easily  head  them  ofi 
by  marching  the  next  day.  The  Due  de  Bourgogne  urged 
him  to  march  that  evening ;  others,  who  dared,  represented 
to  him  the  importance  and  the  necessity  of  doing  so.  All 
was  useless,  in  spite  of  continual  news  of  the  march  of  the 
enemy.  His  negligence  was  so  great  that  he  had  not  even 
thought  of  throwing  bridges  over  a  stream  at  the  head  of 
the  camp.     He  said  it  could  be  done  during  the  night.-' 

The  losses  sustained  in  the  battle  of  Audenarde,  where 
there  were  many  killed  and  wounded,  were  concealed  as 
much  as  possible ;  four  thousand  soldiers  and  seven  hundred 
officers  were  made  prisoners  (not  counting  those  who  were 
heard  of  afterwards),  and  the  dispersion  of  the  troops  was 
enormous. 

As  soon  as  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  reached  Lauendeghem 
he  wrote  to  the  king,  in  few  words,  referring  him  for  detads 
to  the  Due  de  Vendome.  At  the  same  time  he  wrote  to  the 
Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  saying,  in  so  many  words,  that  the 
usual  obstinacy  and  wilful  security  of  the  Due  de  Vendome, 
which  hindered  him  from  marching  two  days  earlier,  as  he 
should  have  done,  and  as  he  liimself  desired,  had  caused  the  sad 
event  which  had  happened ;  that  another  such  disaster  would 
make  him  leave  the  army,  if  he  were  not  prevented  from  so 
doing  by  orders  to  which  he  owed  a  blind  obedience ;  that 
he  comprehended  neither  the  attack,  nor  the  fight,  nor  the 
retreat,  and  that  he  felt  so  outraged  he  could  say  no  more. 
The  courier  who  brought  these  letters  took  one  as  he  passed 

^  Tliis  abridgment  does  not  give  space  for  the  story  of  this  campaign. 
History  agrees  that  the  defeat  at  Oudenarde  (which  Saint-Simon  spells 
Audenarde),  the  capture  of  Lille,  and  the  invasion  of  French  territory, 
were  the  results  of  this  lethargy  on  the  part  of  "Vendome.  —  Tr. 


•I 

,1 


1 


1708]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  67 

through  Ghent,  written  by  Vendome  to  the  king  from  that 
city,  in  which  he  tried  to  persuade  him  on  a  single  page  that 
the  battle  was  not  to  our  disadvantage.  Shortly  after  he 
despatched  another,  also  in  few  words,  telling  the  king  that 
he  should  have  beaten  the  enemy  had  he  been  sustained ;  and 
also  that  if,  contrary  to  his  opinion,  the  retreat  had  not  been 
obstinately  insisted  on,  he  should  certainly  have  beaten  them 
the  next  day ;  for  all  details  he  referred  him  to  Mgr.  le  Due 
de  Bourgogne.  Thus  these  details,  bandied  from  one  to  the 
other,  never  came,  sharpened  curiosity,  and  created  a  dark- 
ness by  which  Vendome  expected  to  save  himself.  A  third 
courier  brought  the  king  a  long  despatch  written  by  the  Due 
de  Bourgogne,  and  a  very  short  one  from  M.  de  Vendome, 
who  still  excused  himself  from  sending  details  on  divers 
pretexts,  also  a  number  of  letters  for  private  individuals. 
The  king  took  them  and  read  them  all,  one  among  them 
three  times  over,  and  returned  very  few,  and  those  open. 
This  was  directly  after  the  king's  supper,  so  that  all  the 
ladies  who  followed  the  princesses  into  the  cabinet  witnessed 
these  readings,  about  which  the  king  said  nothing.  The 
Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  had  a  letter  from  her  husband, 
and  a  short  one  from  the  Due  de  Berry,  who  told  her  that 
M.  de  Vendome  was  very  unlucky,  and  the  whole  army  was 
down  upon  him.  As  soon  as  the  duchess  returned  to  her 
own  apartments  she  could  not  refrain  from  remarking  that 
the  Due  de  Bourgogne  had  very  foolish  persons  about  him, 
but  said  no  more  than  that. 

Biron,  who  was  released  by  the  enemy  on  parole  that  ho 
would  not  go  near  our  iirmy,  arrived  at  Fontainebleau  July 
25.  His  reserve  was  a  useful  shield  against  the  indiscreet 
and  impetuous  questions  addressed  to  liim.  The  king  saw 
him  several  times  in  private  in  Mmo.  de  MiiiutcnoirH  apart- 
meiit,  and  promised   liini   Hccrefy,  to  which    lie  was  strictly 


68  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  hi. 

faithful     Biron  was  a  great  friend  of  mine,  and  I  saw  him 
at  my  ease.     He  told  me  much. 

We  must  now  remember  the  situation  of  the  Court  and 
its  principal  personages,  their  views,  their  interests,  such  as  I 
„  ,    .       ,         have   explained  them   in   various  places,  and 

Behaviour  of  -^  ^ 

the  cabal  of  abovc  all  my  conversation  with  the  Due  de 

Beauvilliers  in  the  gardens  of  Marly  as  to  the 
appointment  of  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  to  the  army  of 
Flanders.  "VVe  have  seen  the  intimate  relations  of  the  bas- 
tards with  Vaudemont,  his  powerful  nieces,  and  principally 
with  VendSme.  We  must  not  lose  sight  of  the  interest  all 
these  persons  had  in  destroying  and  dishonouring  the  Due 
de  Bourgogne,  in  order  not  to  have  to  reckon  with  him  during 
the  Ufe  of  the  king,  and  after  the  king's  death  to  be  rid  of 
liis  influence,  and  so  govern  Monseigneur  themselves  upon 
the  throne.  That  was  the  general  interest  of  all,  ready,  as  I 
have  said  elsewhere,  to  eat  each  other  up  when  the  time 
came,  until  the  power  remained  to  one  of  them.  Mile. 
Choin  and  her  intimates  were  in  the  plot  up  to  their  necks 
for  the  same  reason  ;  and  poor  Chamillart,  whose  interest 
was  just  the  other  way  for  a  thousand  reasons,  and  who 
was  far  too  good  and  honourable  a  man  to  have  dabbled  in 
the  plot  had  he  known  of  it,  was  their  bhnd  instrument. 

At  first  the  cabal,  bewildered  by  so  disastrous  an  event, 
waited  for  more  light  and  more  details,  and  to  avoid  making 
a  false  step,  stopped  short  to  listen.  Feeling  the  danger  of 
its  hero,  it  grew  bolder ;  cast  a  few  whispers  around  it  to 
gauge  their  reception ;  bolder  still,  it  broke  out  aloud  in 
certain  places.  Encouraged  by  these  essays,  which  found 
little  opposition  in  a  bewildered  community  kept  without 
details,  it  risked  a  few  praises  of  Vendome ;  after  that,  dis- 
putes with  whoever  refused  to  agree  with  them,  until,  en- 
couraging each  other  by  these  successes,  they  dared  at  last 


1708]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  69 

to  throw  the  blame  openly  on  the  Due  de  Bourgogne,  and 
very  soon  after  they  came  to  invectives  because  their  first 
attempts  had  not  been  repressed.  There  was  no  one  but  the 
king  and  Monseigneur  who  could  have  done  so.  The  king 
was  still  ignorant  of  those  attempts ;  Monseigneur  was  en- 
snared ;  and  besides,  he  had  no  courage  to  overawe  any  one ; 
the  mass  of  the  courtiers,  still  in  the  dark  as  to  the  details  of 
the  affair  and  afraid  of  personages  of  such  influence  and  high 
degree,  knew  nothing  and  dared  make  no  reply ;  they 
remained  therefore  in  a  state  of  wonder  and  expectation. 
All  this  raised  the  courage  of  the  cabal.  In  the  absence  of 
details,  which  Vendome  took  good  care  not  to  furnish,  they 
dared  to  spread  about  letters  and  documents  the  trickery, 
falsehood,  and  imposture  of  which  knew  no  bounds,  and  went 
so  far  that  the  only  term  that  I  can  apply  to  them  is  an 
attempt  at  impeachment. 

Before  this  outburst  of  the  cabal,  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers, 
remembering  all  that  I  had  said  to  him  at  Marly,  and 
thoroughly  informed  by  his  letters  from  Flanders,  had  come 
to  my  room  with  his  heart  full  of  grief  to  make  me  a  sort 
of  honourable  amends.  I  contented  myself  with  begging 
him  to  see  that  nothing  was  gained  by  ignoring  what  was 
happening  at  Court,  the  selfish  interests,  the  intimacies,  the 
aims,  the  motives ;  and  also  to  be  convinced  that  my  dislike 
of  the  rank,  the  pretension,  the  vices  of  all  these  persons  did 
not  lead  mo  to  imagine  chimeras.  As  to  this  outbreak  I 
agreed  with  liim  heartily  that  the  facts  had  passed  all  likeli- 
hood, but  I  begged  him  to  observe  that  the  most  unexpecLud 
things  happened  much  oftener  than  people  thought,  and 
W(;n;  Mill  licyniid  rui('.si;^lit ,  if,  in  []i(\  Innplti  of  iuiiliil  ion,  we 
do  not  enslave  our  minds  to  misconceive  anihilious  men, 
iind  have  no  scruples  in  believing  people  capable  of  whatever 
their  desire  forollico,  favour,  and  success  inspires  them  to  do. 


70  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  hi. 

We  had  many  discussions  at  various  times,  he,  the  Due  de 
Chevreuse  and  I,  on  the  best  means  of  opening  the  eyes  of 
the  king  and  arresting  this  evil.  The  trouble  was,  not 
that  the  whole  Court  was  corrupted  in  favour  of  the  Due 
de  Vendome,  but  that  fear  held  people  back ;  also  the  ap- 
parent uselessness  of  opposing  the  ton-ent  induced  silence 
and  inaction.  Boufflers  and  many  others  were  in  that 
position. 

We   agreed,  the   two  dukes  and  I,  as  to  what  hints  we 

ought  to  give  to  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  about  his  conduct 

both  at  the  army  and  here,  and  also  about  his 

Duchesse  de  "^ 

Bourgogne ;  her  letters  ;  and  I  undertook  to  warn  the  Duchesse 
de  Bourgogne,  through  Mme.  de  Nogaret,  of 
what  we  thought  she  had  better  know  and  do.  She  herself 
sent  that  lady  to  consult  with  me  and  to  tell  me  frankly 
how  she  stood  with  the  king  and  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  what 
she  could  do  and  what  she  could  not  do.  I  do  not  think  she 
had  a  liking  for  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  personally,  or  that 
his  affection  for  her  was  not  irksome  to  her.  I  think  she 
found  his  piety  oppressive,  and  feared  a  future  in  which  it 
might  become  still  more  so.  But  amid  all  that,  she  felt  the 
value  and  usefulness  of  his  friendship,  and  of  what  sterhng 
weight  his  confidence  would  some  day  be  to  her.  Xor  was 
she  less  sensitive  to  his  reputation,  on  which  all  his  influence 
rested  for  many  years  to  come,  —  until  in  short,  he  had  an 
influence  of  his  own  as  king ;  and  she  saw  that  until  then,  if 
forced  to  succumb  to  this  storm,  dishonoured,  and  conse- 
quently an  object  of  shame  and  distress  to  the  king  and  to 
Monseigneur,  the  greatest  misfortunes  would  result,  at  any 
rate  a  most  sad  life,  in  which  she  herself  would  have  to  bear 
a  part.  I  made  her  understand,  through  Mme.  de  Nogaret, 
the  persons  with  whom  she  had  to  do.  She  was  always  verj-- 
gentle,  and  still  more,  very  timid ;  but  the  importance  of  tliis 


1708]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  71 

crisis  roused  her  beyond  her  natural  self.  She  was,  moreover, 
cruelly  stabbed  and  affronted  by  the  insults  of  Vendome  to 
her  husband,  publicly  offered  to  him,  and  those,  so  false  and 
atrocious,  that  his  emissaries  were  now  publishing.  How- 
ever moderate,  however  self-controlled  the  Due  de  Bour- 
gogne's  conscience  kept  him  outwardly,  he  had  not  been  able 
to  restrain  the  outpourings  of  his  heart  in  writing  to  his 
wife ;  and  those  letters,  added  to  what  reached  her  from 
other  sources,  were  like  stinging  goads  to  her.  She  did 
therefore  so  much,  and  did  it  so  weU,  that  she  carried  the 
day  with  Mme.  de  Maintenon  against  the  veiled  artifices,  the 
wily  charming,  of  M.  du  Maine.  She  won  her,  she  roused 
her,  she  induced  her  to  speak  to  the  king,  besieged  on  all 
sides,  whom  nothing  could  reach  on  the  side  of  truth  and  his 
grandson  except  through  her. 

The  cabal  was  bewildered  to  see  Mme.  de  Maintenon 
escaping  M.  du  Maine  and  devoting  herself  to  the  Due  de 
Bourgogne,  and  to  hear,  as  the  fruit  thereof,  of  certain  words 
said  by  the  king  in  council.  On  reflection,  however,  they 
concluded  that  what  the  king  had  said  was  no  more  than 
he  owed  to  his  grandson,  and  to  the  empire  which  Mme.  de 
Maintenon  had  acquired  over  him.  They  thought  he  was 
more  led  away  than  convinced,  and  that  by  holding  firm 
they  could  still  keep  him  balanced  between  his  love  for 
M.  du  Maine,  his  liking  for  Vendome,  bastardy  in  general, 
and  his  principal  valets,  on  the  one  hand,  and  his  habit  of 
deference  to  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  and  the  amusement  he 
took  in  the  Diichcsse  de  Dourgogne,  on  the  other.  They 
therefore  redoubled  their  efforts  to  spread  about  their  letters 
and  documents  and  all  they  could  invent  that  was  most 
atroc.iouH  and  insidious.  Thrsy  wen;  too  well  guided  to 
])(!  iniHtuk(!n.  M.  du  Mainci  and  Hloin  knew  the  king 
thoroughly;  they  beset  him;  ho  liked  it;  taste  and  habit 


72  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap,  rii 

were  both  gratified.  The  efforts  of  the  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne  redoubled  as  the  cabal  redoubled  its  blows ;  Mme.  de 
Maintenon  supported  her,  and  the  king  became  so  restive 
that  he  scolded  the  princess  harshly  several  times,  and 
declared  he  could  not  stand  her  temper  and  bitterness. 

As   time  went  on  the  public  agitation  became   extreme, 

even  to   indecency.     The  minds   of   all  were   occupied  in 

expecting  a  decisive   battle ;    every   one   was 

Anxiety  at  Court.  j.  o  ^  ^ 

drawn  to  desire  it  by  the  straits  to  which 
things  were  reduced ;  there  seemed,  in  fact,  nothing  else  to 
look  to.  The  fortunate  junction  of  the  two  armies  [those  of 
Berwick  and  VendOme],  was  at  first  regarded  as  a  presage  of 
success ;  but  delays  had  sharpened  impatience.  Every  one 
was  uneasy ;  even  the  king  asked  news  of  the  courtiers,  and 
seemed  unable  to  understand  what  delayed  the  couriers. 
The  princes  and  seigneurs  and  the  people  about  the  Court 
who  served  them  were  with  the  army.  All  Versailles  felt 
the  danger  of  its  nearest  relations,  of  its  friends,  and  the 
risk  to  the  fortunes  of  the  best-established  families.  The 
Forty-hour  prayers  were  offered  everywhere.  The  Duchesse 
de  Bourgogne  passed  whole,  nights  in  the  chapel  when  she 
was  thought  to  be  in  bed,  and  she  wore  out  her  ladies  with 
her  many  vigils.  Following  her  example,  women  whose 
husbands  were  with  the  army  scarcely  stirred  from  the 
churches.  Cards,  conversations  even,  ceased.  Fear  that 
was  almost  shameful  was  pamted  on  the  faces  and  heard 
in  talk.  If  a  horse  passed  rapidly  every  one  ran  to  know 
where  it  went.  Chamillart's  apartment  was  crowded  with 
lacqueys  even  to  the  street,  their  masters  wanting  instant 
news  of  the  arrival  of  a  courier ;  and  this  horror  lasted  nearly 
a  month,  until  the  end  of  all  uncertainty  about  a  battle  was 
reached.  Paris,  being  farther  from  the  source  of  news,  was 
still  more  troubled,  and   the  provinces  in  proportion  even 


1708]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  73 

more  so.  The  king  had  written  to  all  the  bishops  requesting 
them  to  offer  public  prayers  in  terms  corresponding  to  the 
danger ;  it  is  easy  to  imagine  the  impression  this  made  and 
the  general  alarm. 

One  evening,  during  the  impatience  for  a  courier  who 
never  came,  I  was  talking  after  supper  at  Chamillart's  with 
ibetwithcani  Sve  or  six  pcrsons,  among  them  La  Feuillade. 
about  LiUe.  p^j^   ^f    ^y.  ^^^    couviction,   and    provoked 

at  the  boasting  of  coming  battles  and  of  victories  and  suc- 
cour which  I  heard  about  me,  I  suddenly  lost  patience  and 
proposed  to  Cani,  whom  I  interrupted,  to  bet  four  pistoles 
that  there  would  be  no  battle,  that  Lille  would  be  taken, 
and  not  relieved.  Great  uproar  among  the  few  present  at 
so  strange  a  proposal,  and  many  questions  as  to  the  reasons 
that  led  me  to  make  it.  I  was  careful  not  to  tell  my  real 
reason;  and  answered  merely  that  that  was  my  opinion. 
Cani  and  Chamillart  protested  that  beside  the  ardent  desires 
of  Vendome  and  the  whole  army,  the  most  precise  and 
reiterated  orders  had  been  sent  to  relieve  Lille;  that  I 
was  throwing  my  pistoles  into  the  river;  and  they  warned 
me  that  Cani  was  betting  on  a  certainty.  I  told  them,  with 
the  same  coolness  (which  covered  what  was  boiling  within 
me),  that  I  had  no  doubt  of  what  they  said,  but  all  the  same 
I  did  not  change  my  opinion,  but  maintained  it,  in  English 
fashion.  I  was  exhorted,  but  held  firm,  and  always  in  just 
those  few  words.  At  last  they  consented,  making  fim  of  mo, 
and  Cani  thanking  me  for  the  little  present  I  was  so  kind  as 
to  make  him.  We  drew  out  from  our  pockets,  he  and  T,  our 
lour  ])i,sloles,  and  gave  thciu  to  Chaniillait  to  hold.  Never 
was  man  nion;  astonished.  Ah  lie,  went  to  lock  up  I  he 
eiglit  piHtolcH  ho  took  mo  with  him  to  the  other  end  ol"  tlic 
rooiri.  "In  (Jod's  name,"  he  said,  "  do  luo  the  kinchu'ss  (o 
tell  uKi  on  what  you  l)aH(',  your  conviction;  for  \  re[)eat,  on 


74  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap,  iil 

the  word  of  a  man  of  honour,  that  I  have  sent  the  most  posi- 
tive orders,  and  there  is  no  possible  way  in  which  they  can 
be  evaded."  I  got  out  of  it  by  talking  of  the  time  already 
lost  of  which  the  enemy  would  surely  have  made  the  most, 
and  the  consequent  impossibihty  of  executing  his  orders. 
I  was  careful,  intimate  as  we  were,  not  to  say  more  to  a 
tool  of  Vaudemont  and  his  nieces,  who  was  completely 
infatuated  with  Vendome ;  a  man  of  honour  truly,  but  too 
incapable  of  opening  his  eyes  to  allow  any  hope  of  making 
him  see  a  project  they  had  sedulously  hidden  from  him,  but 
which,  ^mkno^vn  to  himself,  he  had  hitherto  so  usefully 
served. 

Nothing  could  have  been  more  simple  than  this  bet  and 
the  way  in  which  it  was  made  at  a  private  house  in  which 
I  spent  most  of  my  evenings.  I  did  not  even  express  myself 
in  any  way,  except  in  this  brief  talk  with  Chamillart,  on 
whose  friendship  and  discretion  I  could  always  rely.  Yet 
a  very  rapid  experience,  very  unfortunate  in  its  results, 
showed  me  that  I  had  never  done  anything  more  impru- 
dent. The  next  day  this  bet  was  the  news  of  the  Court ; 
nothing  else  was  talked  of.  No  one  can  live  at  a  Court  with- 
out enemies.  I  ought  not  to  have  been  a  cause  of  envy  to 
any  one ;  but  the  valuable  friends  I  had  made  there  made 
me  regarded  as  being  some-one  and  some-thing  of  importance 
for  my  age.  The  Lorrains  could  not  forgive  me  for  certain 
things  which  I  have  told  in  these  ]\iemoirs,  and  others  that 
were  not  worth  writing  about.  M.  du  Maine,  whose  remark- 
able advances  I  had  evaded  and  who  could  not  be  ignorant  of 
what  I  thought  about  his  rank,  did  not  like  me,  nor,  in  con- 
sequence, did  Mme.  de  Maintenon.  As  for  the  cabal  itself,  I 
had  expressed  myself  too  openly  after  the  fight  at  Audenarde 
to  be  forgiven  by  them.  They  did  not,  therefore,  allow  my 
bet  to  pass.     In  short,  the  next  day  there  was  a  frightful 


1708]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  75 

uproar.  ]\Ialice  went  so  far  as  to  accuse  me  of  being  dis- 
loyal, discontented  with  the  war,  and  of  gloating  over  its 
ill-success.  These  remarks  were  carefully  carried  to  the 
king  and  adroitly  put  into  him  ;  the  reputation  of  having  a 
mind  and  an  education,  which  had  been  found  so  conducive 
to  my  injury  at  the  time  of  my  choice  for  Eome,  was  again 
brought  up  and  refreshed  in  his  mind  with  such  art  that 
I  was  wholly  lost  in  his  good  opinion  for  more  than  two 
months  before  I  became  aware  of  it,  —  in  fact,  without  my 
really  suspecting  anything  on  his  part  for  a  much  longer 
time.  All  that  I  could  now  do  was  to  let  this  great  racket 
go  by,  and  hold  my  tongue  so  as  not  to  give  ground  for 
worse. 

Chamillart,  who  had  been  sent  by  the  king  to  the  army, 
returned  to  Versailles  during  the  king's  supper  on  Tuesday, 
September  18.  The  king  worked  v/ith  him  after  leaving 
the  table  till  he  went  to  bed,  and  was  only  a  moment  with 
the  princesses.  Chamillart  gave  him  an  account  of  all  he 
had  seen  and  of  the  confident  hope  of  M.  de  Vendome  to 
capture  the  waggon  trains  of  the  enemy,  and  so  deprive  them 
of  subsistence,  —  in  other  words,  compel  them  to  abandon 
the  siege. 

The  king  needed  these  intervals  of  consolation  and  hope. 
Master  as  he  was  of  his  words  and  of  his  face,  he  deeply 
felt  the  inability  into  which  he  was  daily  sinking  more  and 
more  to  resist  his  enemies.  What  I  have  related  of  Samuel 
Piornanl,  to  wlinin  Ikj  sliowed  the  gardens  of  Marly  in 
co]]u.sif)n  with  I)csiri;uot.s  to  obtain  an  assistance  he  could 
not  procnn;  (;],s(!w]icrc,  is  a  strong  proof  of  this.  On  the 
other  hand,  he  had  periods  of  great  fortitude,  which  edified 
IcMM  tlinii  thny  surprised.  At  tiic  time  of  the  junction  of 
the.  Due  (In  Berwick  with  the,  gnmd  iinny  ho  noticed  one 
evening    in    Mnie.   do    Miiintenon'H    room    the    sadnoss    and 


76  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap,  iil 

anxiety  of  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne.  He  seemed  sur- 
prised and  asked  her  what  was  the  matter,  saying  she  ought 
to  be  reassured  by  the  satisfaction  he  felt  at  the  junction 
of  the  armies.  "  And  the  princes,  your  grandsons  ? "  she 
said,  quickly.  "  I  am  anxious  about  them,"  he  repHed,  "  but 
I  hope  all  will  go  well."  "  So  am  I,"  she  replied,  "  and  that 
is  why  I  am  sad  and  troubled."  During  all  the  terror  and 
quivering  of  the  Court  while  waiting,  as  I  have  related,  for 
a  battle,  the  king  distressed  every  one  by  going  out  from 
Versailles  every  day  either  to  hunt  or  drive,  for  no  one  could 
know  until  after  his  return  the  news  that  arrived  in  his 
absence.  Whether  this  was  done  because  he  did  not  wish 
by  changing  his  habits  to  show  his  uneasiness,  or  whether 
he  did  not  feel  sufficient  uneasiness  to  yield  liis  amuse- 
ments, I  cannot  say. 

As  for  Monseigneur  he  seemed  wholly  exempt  from  all 
anxiety,  even  on  the  day  when  Chamillart  returned  from 
Indifference  of  Flandcrs.  Monsclgneur  went  off  to  diae  at 
Monseigneur.  Mcudou  ou  that  day,  saying  it  would  be  time 
enough  to  hear  the  news  when  he  returned.  He  did  this 
more  than  once  while  the  anxious  waiting  for  the  battle  in 
Flanders  and  the  relief  of  Lille  kept  every  one  glued  to  the 
windows  to  watch  for  the  couriers.  He  was  present  when 
Chamillart  brought  the  king  the  news  of  the  investiture  of 
that  place,  and  while  he  read  the  letter.  Half  way  through, 
Monseigneur  went  away.  The  king  called  him  back  to  hear 
the  rest.  He  returned  and  listened.  The  reading  over,  he 
went  off  without  saying  a  word.  The  creduhty  of  Mon- 
seigneur for  those  who  had  captured  him  went  to  a  point 
that  is  incredible  to  any  one  who  did  not  see  it,  as  I  shall 
have  occasion  to  show  later.  He  swallowed  against  his  own 
son  all  the  poison  they  gave  him ;  he  let  it  be  seen  that  he 
was  primed  with  it ;  and  he  never  got  over  it  for  the  rest  of 


1708]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUC   DE  SAINT-SIMON.  77 

his  life.  His  tastes  were  not  for  him  nor  for  those  who 
had  had  charge  of  his  education.  So  precise  a  piety  con- 
strained and  annoyed  him  ;  his  heart  was  for  the  King  of 
Spain,  and  he  never  behed  it.  He  was  fond  also  of  the  Due 
de  Berry,  who  enlivened  him  by  his  taste  for  liberty  and 
pleasure.  The  cabal  took  advantage  of  this.  It  had  too 
strong  an  interest  in  depriving  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  of  the 
esteem,  affection,  and  confidence  of  Monseigneur  not  to  care- 
fully promote  by  every  possible  means  the  estrangement  it 
was  producing. 

I  had  intended  to  go  to  La  Fert^  directly  after  the  return 
from  Fontainebleau,  to  enjoy  what  remained  of  the  summer 
season.  Several  influential  friends  desired  to  prevent  this,  on 
account  of  the  great  anxiety  relating  to  Flanders.  I  was 
fully  convinced  that  nothing  would  take  place,  and  that  Lille 
would  not  be  reheved.  Moreover,  I  began  to  feel  I  could  no 
longer  bear  the  audacity  and  triumph  of  the  cabal  against 
the  Due  de  Bourgogne ;  and  I  was  longing  to  be  at  a  distance 
from  the  Court,  when  the  Due  de  BeauvilUers,  after  exhaust- 
ing his  reasons  for  detaining  me,  suddenly  asked  me  if  I 
would  not  at  least  for  love  of  the  Duo  de  Bourgogne  make  an 
effort  to  stay  some  days  longer  at  Court.  That  disarmed  my 
impatience.  I  promised  to  stay  until  he  himself  should  set 
me  free,  but  I  begged  him  not  to  try  too  far  the  little  self- 
control  I  had  among  these  criminal  schemes  which  nothing 
could  successfully  oppose.  He  promised  ;  and,  moreover,  he 
sent  word  to  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  of  tlie  effort  I  had  made 
over  myself  out  of  regard  for  him.  This  delay  did  me  no 
good,  nor  did  it  serve  in  any  way  those  who  wished  it.  I  was 
odious  to  the  whole  cabal.  It  had  muzzled  even  those  who 
were  most  convinced  of  its  crimes.  I  dare  to  say  hero  that 
I  was  perhaps  the  only  man  in  whom  enough  courage  re- 
mained not  to  keep  the  truth  under  lork  and  key,  and  to 


78  MEMOIES  OF  THE  DTJC  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  hi. 

give  counsel.  The  latter  they  feared ;  the  former  they  hated, 
and  it  was  all  the  more  odious  to  them  because  they  had 
strangled  it. 

Not  long  after  I  finally  reached  La  Fert^,  I  received  a 
letter  from  the  Bishop  of  Chartres,  dated  from  Saint-Cyr, 
I  am  warned  by  "^^^lich  wamed  me  that  the  worst  possible 
the  Bishop  of        offices  had  been  done  me  with  the  king  and 

Chartres  of  in-  ^       -mt 

jury  done  me  Mme.  de  Mamteuon,  and  had  taken  root.     I 

with  the  king.  -wrote  to  him  at  once  by  an  express,  asking  for 
more  information  on  so  vague  a  statement,  and  also  giving 
him  grounds  on  which  to  defend  me  about  the  tales  against 
me  for  my  bet  as  to  Lille,  until  I  knew  more  and  could  ward 
off  the  blows  with  greater  certainty.  I  was  not  surprised, 
but  rather  embarrassed  by  the  limited  information  he  had 
given  me,  for  when  my  express  reached  Saint-Cyr  the  bishop 
had  already  returned  to  Chartres,  and  would  not  after  that 
tell  me  more.  By  this  affair  I  was  confused  and  troubled 
for  more  than  a  year ;  and  the  way  in  which  I  finally  got 
out  of  it  will  be  found  in  its  proper  place.  I  did  not  stay 
long  at  La  Fertd,  for  I  wanted  to  be  at  Court  on  the  return 
of  the  Due  d'Orldans,  and  especially  on  that  of  the  Due  de 
Bourgogne. 

Mme.  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  was  in  sreat  agitation 
as  to  the  reception  her  husband  would  receive,  and  very 
Return  of  the  dcsirous  to  havc  tiuic  to  talk  with  him  and 

princes  to  Court.       ^^^^  j^- ^^  ^f  ^.i^^  g^^^g  ^f  ^j^^g^  ^gf^^.^  ^ie  COuld 

see  the  king  or  any  one  else.  The  young  prince  arrived  Mon- 
day, December  the  11th,  soon  after  seven  in  the  evening,  and 
just  as  Monseigneur  had  gone  to  the  comedy,  where  the 
Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  would  not  go,  in  order  to  await  her 
husband.  I  do  not  know  why  he  entered  by  the  Cour  des 
Princes  instead  of  the  grand  courtyard.  I  was  at  that  mo- 
ment in  the  Comtesse  de  Eoucy's  apartment,  the  windows 


1708]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  79 

of  which  overlooked  the  Cour.  I  went  out  directly,  and  on 
reaching  the  head  of  the  grand  staircase  at  the  end  of  the 
gallery,  I  saw  the  prince  coming  up  between  the  Dues  de 
Beauvilliers  and  de  La  Eocheguyon,  who  had  met  him  as  he 
left  his  carriage.  He  looked  well  and  was  gay  and  smiling, 
bowing  right  and  left.  I  made  my  bow  beside  the  stairs.  He 
did  me  the  honour  to  embrace  me,  but  in  a  way  that  showed 
he  was  better  informed  as  to  what  was  happening  than 
attentive  to  what  he  owed  to  his  dignity,  and  he  spoke  to  me 
alone  for  quite  a  long  distance,  during  which  he  slipped  into 
my  ear  a  few  words,  telling  me  he  was  not  ignorant  how  I 
had  talked  and  behaved  on  his  account.  He  was  met  by  a 
group  of  courtiers,  at  the  head  of  whom  was  the  Due  de  La 
Rochefoucauld ;  accompanied  by  them  he  passed  through  the 
great  guard-room,  and,  instead  of  entering  Mme.  de  Main- 
tenon's  apartment  by  the  antechamber  and  the  back  door, 
which  was  much  the  shortest  way,  he  went  along  the  land- 
ing of  the  grand  staircase,  and  entered  her  apartment  by  the 
great  door.  It  was  the  day  on  which  the  king  ordinarily 
worked  with  Pontchartrain.  The  latter  was  there  alone  with 
the  king  and  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  and  he  told  me  of  this 
curious  reception  that  same  evening,  for  he  took  great  note 
of  it  and  was  its  only  witness.  I  say  only  witness,  for  the 
Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  went  and  came.  But  to  fully  under- 
stand the  scene  a  moment  of  dull  explanation  is  necessary. 

The  apartment  of  Mme.  de  Maintenon  was  on  the  same 
floor  and  directly  opposite  the  king's  guard-room.  The 
antecliarnbcr  was  really  a  long  passage  leading  into  another 
antechamber  of  the  s;uiio  form.  Between  the  door  which 
led  into  Mme.  de  Mainlcuion's  room  from  this  second  ante- 
chamber and  tlio  chimney  stood  the  king's  arm-chair,  its 
back  against  the  wall,  with  a  tabid  Ixifore  it,  at  th(^  side 
of  which  was  a  folding  stool  for  whichever  minister  was 


80  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  hi. 

working  with  him.  On  the  other  side  of  the  chimney  was 
a  niche,  draped  in  red  damask,  and  an  arm-chair  in  which 
sat  Mme.  de  Maintenon  with  a  table  before  her.  Farther 
on,  was  her  bed  in  a  recess.  Opposite  to  the  foot  of  the 
bed  were  five  steps  up,  and  a  door  leading  into  a  very  large 
cabinet,  which  opened  into  the  first  antechamber  of  the 
Due  de  Bourgogne's  apartments.  Every  evening  the 
Duchesse  de  Bourgogiie  played  cards  in  this  large  cabinet 
with  such  of  her  ladies  as  had  the  entree  (who  were  but 
few),  and  from  there  she  could  enter  as  often  as  she  liked 
the  chamber  of  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  where  the  latter 
always  sat  with  the  king,  the  fireplace  between  them. 
Monseigneur,  after  the  comedy,  usually  came  up  to  the 
large  cabinet,  which  Mme.  de  Maintenon  seldom  entered, 
and  the  king  never.  Before  the  king's  supper  Mme.  de 
Maintenon's  servants  brought  in  her  soup  and  cover  and 
something  besides.  She  ate  the  supper,  her  women  and 
one  footman  serving  her,  —  the  king  being  always  present, 
and  nearly  always  working  with  a  minister.  The  supper 
over,  and  it  was  short,  the  table  was  carried  away ;  Mme. 
de  Maintenon's  women  remained  and  immediately  un- 
dressed her  and  put  her  to  bed.  When  the  king  was 
informed  that  his  supper  was  ready,  he  went  to  say  a  word 
to  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  and  then  rang  a  bell  which  sounded 
in  the  great  cabinet;  whereupon  Monseigneur,  if  he  was 
there,  the  Due  and  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  the  Due  de 
Berry,  and  the  ladies  of  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  en- 
tered, single  file,  the  chamber  of  Mme.  de  Maintenon, 
merely  to  pass  through  it  and  precede  the  king,  who  then 
went  to  supper,  at  which  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  and 
her  ladies  sat  down. 

As  soon  as  the  sounds  of  the  arrival  of  the  young  prince 
were   heard  in  Mme.   de  Maintenon's   chamber,  the   king 


1708]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  81 

was   so   disturbed   that   he   changed   colour   several    times. 

The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  seemed  to  tremble,  and  liitted 

about  from  the  bedroom  to  the  antechamber 

Reception  of 

ti-.e  Due  de  or  the  cabinet,  under  pretence  of  watching  for 

the  prince,  but  really  to  hide  her  agitation. 
Presently  the  doors  opened ;  the  young  prince  advanced 
to  the  king,  who,  master  of  himself  if  any  man  ever 
was,  instantly  lost  all  embarrassment,  made  a  step  or 
two  towards  his  grandson,  embraced  him  with  sufficient 
appearance  of  tenderness,  spoke  of  his  journey,  and  then, 
pointing  to  the  princess,  added,  laughing:  "Have  you 
nothing  to  say  to  her  ? "  The  prince  then  turned  for  an 
instant  towards  his  wife  and  bowed  respectfully,  but  did 
not  stir  from  his  place.  He  next  bowed  to  Mme.  de  Main- 
tenon,  who  received  him  very  well.  Talk  of  the  journey, 
the  roads,  the  stopping-places  lasted,  every  one  standing  up, 
about  half  a  quarter  of  an  hour;  then  the  king  said  it  was 
not  fair  to  keep  him  any  longer  from  the  pleasure  of  being 
alone  with  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  and  sent  him  away ; 
adding  that  they  should  have  leisure  to  see  each  other 
again.  The  prince  made  his  reverence  to  the  king,  then  to 
Mme.  de  Maintenon,  and  passed  up  the  five  steps  into  the 
great  cal)inet,  where  he  embraced  the  duchess,  saluted  her 
ladies,  that  is  to  say,  kissed  them,  remained  a  few  moments, 
and  then  entered  his  own  apartment,  wliere  he  shut  himself 
up  alone  with  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne. 

Their  Ute-d,-Ute  lasted  two  hours ;  Mme.  la  duchesse  then 
returned  to  the  grand  cabinet.  Monseiguo.ur  came,  as  usual, 
after  the  comedy.  The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  troubled 
that  her  husband  did  not  hasten  to  salute  Monseigneur, 
W(iiit  hf'-r:-;(;ir  to  liiid  iiiiii,  ;iri(l  rcliiriKid  saying  that  he  was 
powdering;  Init  oliscrviiig  that  MonsiMgiKUir  was  not  ploasod 
with   this   lack  of  cagcriicsH,  she  sent  to    hurry  hiiu.     The 

VOL.  II.  —  0 


82  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  in. 

Mardcliale  d'E.'strees,  a  silly,  giddy  creature,  pos,sessed  to 
say  everything  that  came  into  her  head,  attacked  Monsei- 
gneur  for  waiting  so  tranquilly  to  see  his  son,  instead  of 
goino-  himself  to  embrace  him.  Monseisrneur  answered 
curtly  that  it  was  not  for  him  to  seek  the  Due  de  Bourgogne, 
but  for  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  to  come  to  his  father.  At 
last  he  came.  The  reception  was  fairly  good,  but  by  no 
means  hke  that  of  the  king.  At  tliis  moment  the  king 
rang,  and  they  all  passed  to  supper.  Soon  after,  the  Due 
de  Berry  arrived,  and  came  at  once  to  salute  the  king  at 
table.  At  sight  of  him  all  hearts  seemed  joyful.  The 
king  embraced  him  tenderly.  ]\Ionseigneur  looked  at  him 
in  the  same  manner,  but  dared  not  embrace  him  in  the 
king's  presence.  Every  one  present  seemed  to  court  him. 
He  remained  standmg  beside  the  kmg  during  the  rest  of 
the  supper ;  the  talk  was  only  of  post-horses,  roads,  and 
trifles  of  that  kind.  The  king  also  spoke  while  at  table  to 
the  Due  de  Bourgogne;  but  with  quite  a  different  air  and 
manner  from  that  he  used  to  the  Due  de  Berry. 

M.  de  Vendome  arrived  at  Yersnilles  on  the  morning  of 

Saturday,  December  16,  and  made  his  reverence  to  the  king 

as   he  left  his   cabinet   to  go  to   his  private 

Return  and  re-  _  _  o  j. 

ceptionofthe  dinner.  The  king  embraced  him  with  a  sort  of 
en  ome.  g^j.|jQ^j,  which  made  a  triumph  for  the  cabal. 
Vendome  kept  the  field  throughout  the  whole  dinner,  though 
the  talk  was  only  of  trifles.  The  king  told  him  that  he 
would  see  him  the  next  day  at  Mme.  de  Maintenon's. 
This  delay,  which  was  a  new  thing  to  Vendome,  was  not  a 
good  omen  for  him.  He  then  went  to  pay  his  respects  to 
the  Due  de  Bourgogne,  who  received  him  well  in  spite  of  what 
had  passed.  After  that  he  went  to  Monseigneur,  in  the 
Princesse  de  Conti's  apartment,  on  his  return  from  hunting  ; 
there  indeed  he  felt  himself  strong.     His  reception  was  of 


1708]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  83 

the  best,  and  much  talk  went  on  about  nothing ;  he  wished  to 
profit  by  the  occasion  to  induce  Monseigneur  to  visit  him  at 
Anet.  His  suq^rise  and  that  of  the  company  was  great  at 
the  ambiguous  reply  made  by  Monseigneur,  who,  however, 
let  it  be  understood,  and  rather  dryly,  that  he  should  not  go. 
Vendome  seemed  embarrassed,  and  shortened  his  visit.  The 
next  day  he  was  scarcely  an  hour  with  the  king  and  Mme. 
de  Maintenon.  His  Abbd  Alberoni  appeared'  at  the  king's 
mass  as  a  courtier  with  unparalleled  effrontery.  After  a 
few  days  they  departed  for  Anet ;  but  before  they  went 
VendOme  had  seen  signs  of  a  downfall,  which  led  him  to  in- 
vite everybody  to  visit  him,  —  him,  who  in  other  years  made 
it  the  greatest  favour  to  receive  people,  and  then  only  those 
who  were  grand  and  distinguished,  not  deigning  to  notice 
any  others.  He  now  felt  his  own  diminution  in  that  of  his 
company.  Some  excused  themselves ;  others  failed  to  keep 
the  engagement  which  they  had  made  with  him. 

The  king  had  despatched  a  letter  to  the  Mardchal  de 
Boufflers  at  Douai,  urging  his  return.  He  arrived  Sunday, 
Triumphant  re-  Dccembcr  1 7,  the  day  after  the  Due  de  Ven- 
Marlchp°ide^  domc,  that  counterfeit  hero  of  favour  and 
Boufflers.  cabals ;  the  other  a  hero  in  spite  of  himself,  by 

the  voice  of  all  Frenchmen  and  their  enemies.  No  man 
ever  merited  a  triumph  more,  or  evaded  with  greater  modesty, 
althougli  tlie  simplest,  whatever  scorned  to  claim  it.  He 
sent  word  of  his  arrival  In  tli(^  king  at  once,  and  awaited 
the  moment  to  pay  his  respects.  Tlie  king,  who  liad  just 
finished  his  interview  with  tlu;  Due  de  Vendnnie,  sent  for 
him  instantly.  As  hi;  opened  th(!  door  tlic  king  went  up  to 
him  and  (unhnuuMi  liiiii  tiglitly  I, wo  or  three  times,  p[avo  him 
the.  most  flattering  tliiinl<M,  and  riowncd  him   with  praises.' 

'  Miirf^cliiil  (Ic  IJdiinicrH  (Icifcndcil  Fiillc  in  a  ufnlliiiit  iind  nol)lo  ninmuT. 
•  !<•  was  forced  lo  ciniiliilalc  iit  IiihI,  hut   lie  did  ho  on  liln  own  tcrniH      'I'lic 


84  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  ui. 

During  these  moments  they  advanced  up  the  room  and  the 
door  was  closed.  Mme.  de  Maintenon  had  followed  the 
king,  who  now  said,  looking  at  the  mardchal,  that,  "  having 
deserved  so  nobly  of  him  and  of  the  State,  he  left  it  to  his 
choice  what  reward  he  should  give  him."  Boufflers  stam- 
mered his  respects,  and  replied  that  such  marks  of  satisfaction 
rewarded  him  not  only  above  his  deserts  but  beyond  his 
desires.  The  king  pressed  him  to  ask  what  he  would  for 
himself  and  his  family,  but  the  marshal  persisted  in  saymg 
he  was  paid  sufficiently  by  his  kindness  and  esteem.  "  Oh  ! 
very  well,  monsieur  le  mardchal,"  said  the  king  at  last; 
"  since  you  ask  me  for  nothing,  I  shall  tell  you  myself  what 
I  have  thought  of,  to  which  I  will  add  whatever  you  wish,  if 
I  have  not  thought  of  all  that  would  please  you.  I  make 
you  a  peer ;  I  give  you  the  government  of  Flanders  and  its 
survivance  to  your  son ;  and  I  give  you  also  the  entrees  of 
the  first  gentlemen  of  the  chamber."  His  son  was  then  only 
ten  or  eleven  years  old.  The  marshal  flung  himself  on  his 
knees,  overcome  with  favours  so  far  beyond  his  expectations. 
He  received  also  the  survivance  to  his  son  of  the  salaries  of 
the  governorship  of  Lille.  The  whole  amounted  to  over  one 
hundred  thousand  francs  a  year. 

A  few  days  after  the  return  of  Mgr.  le  Due  de  Bourgogne, 
Cheverny,  coming  out  from  a  tete-tc-tete  with  the  duke,  him- 
self a  most  truthful  man,  told  me  a  thing  which  I  cannot 
deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  putting  here,  although  I  do  not 
write  it  without  confusion.     He   told  me   that   the  prince, 

garrison  marched  out  with  the  honours  of  war;  the  sick  and  wounded,  and 
eight  thousand  horses  were  sent  under  escort  to  Douai ;  the  rights  of  the 
inhabitants  were  secured  to  them ;  and  Boufflers  himself,  with  the  Cheva- 
lier de  Luxembourg,  was  driven  out  of  Lille  by  Prince  Eugene  in  his  own 
carriage,  the  prince  placing  Boufflers  and  Luxembourg  on  the  back  seat 
and  himself  on  the  front.  The  Prince  d'Auvergne,  who  commanded  the 
escort  to  Douai,  was  ordered  by  Prince  Eugene  to  obey  the  Marechal  de 
Boufflers  as  he  would  himself.  —  Tr. 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  85 

speaking  to  him  freely  of  the  talk  that  had  been  made  about 
him  during  the  campaign,  said  that  he  knew  how  and  with 
what  vehemence  I  had  spoken  of  him ;  that  he  also  knew 
the  manner  in  which  the  Prince  de  Conti  had  expressed 
himself ;  and  he  added  that  to  have  the  good  v/ord  of  two 
such  men  was  ground  for  consolation  about  all  the  rest. 
Cheverny,  who  was  full  of  this  news,  came  to  tell  me  at 
once.  I  felt  confusion  in  being  placed  beside  a  man  so 
superior  to  me  in  this  line,  as  he  was  by  rank  and  birth ; 
but  I  felt  with  satisfaction  that  M.  de  Beauvilliers  had  good 
reason  to  ask  me  to  remain  when  I  wanted  to  go  to  La  Fert^. 
About  this  time  the  Court  witnessed  the  change  of  a 
ministry  which  was  worn  out,  through  its  long  duration,  to 
its  very  root,  and  yet  was  only  the  more  ac- 
^    ^     .\         ceptable  to  the  king  for  that  reason.     Pere  de 

Death  and  char-  ■*•  ^ 

acterofPcrede  La  Chaisc  died  on  the  20th  of  January,  at  the 
Grands-J^suites  in  the  rue  Saint-Antoine.  He 
was  great-nephew  of  the  famous  Pfere  Cotton,  and  paternal 
nephew  of  Vhre  d'Aix,  who  made  him  a  Jesuit ;  as  such  he 
distinguished  himself  first  in  the  office  of  professor,  and 
afterwards  in  those  of  rector  at  Grenoble  and  Lyon,  and 
superior  of  the  houses  of  his  Order  in  that  province.  He 
was  noble  by  birth,  and  his  father,  who  was  well  allied  and 
had  seen  much  service,  would  have  been  rich  for  his  part  of 
the  country  if  he  had  not  had  a  dozen  children. 

Pferc  de  La  Chaise  succeeded  P5re  Ferrier  in  1675,  as  con- 
fessor to  the  king  ;  thus  he  held  that  office  for  nearly  thirty- 
four  years.  Easter  caused  him  moii;  than  one  ixilicy-ilhioss 
(luring  the  attachment  of  the  king  to  Mme.  elc,  Montesiian. 
Once  when  he  liad  an  attack,  lu;  sent  l*6ro  Deschanips  in  his 
place,  who  bravely  refused  absolutidn.  That  Jesuit  was  the 
W(;ll-kn()\vn  sujierior  ol'  liis  fnilcrMily  in  ruiis.  and  hiul  the 
<'(inli(l(}nr(!  of  M.  h-  l'iiiic<',  (Ik;  hcr.i,  in  his  last  yeiir.s. 


86  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  hi. 

Pere  de  La  Chaise  was  of  ordinary  mind,  but  good  in  char- 
acter, just,  upright,  sensible,  judicious,  kind,  and  moderate ; 
very  much  opposed  to  spying  or  informing,  and  to  outbreaks 
and  violence.  He  had  honour,  integrity,  humanity,  and  lov- 
ing-kindness ;  he  was  affable,  pohte,  modest,  and  even  re- 
spectful ;  also  disinterested  in  every  way,  though  strongly 
attached  to  his  family ;  he  piqued  himself  on  his  nobility, 
and  favoured  rank  wherever  he  could.  He  was  careful  to 
make  good  selections  for  the  episcopate,  especially  for  the 
highest  places,  and  was  always  successful  whenever  he  had 
the  sole  influence.  Easy  to  convince  of  a  mistake,  whenever 
he  made  one,  he  was  eager  to  repair  any  harm  his  blunder 
had  caused ;  judicious  and  cautious,  however ;  a  good  man 
and  a  good  priest ;  a  strong  Jesuit,  but  not  rabid,  and  without 
servility ;  knowing  his  Order  better  than  he  showed,  and  yet 
among  them  as  one  of  themselves.  He  never  wished  to 
push  Port-Royal  des  Champs  to  its  destruction,  or  to  take 
part  in  anything  against  Cardinal  de  Noailles ;  he  favoured 
as  much  as  he  could  the  Archbishop  of  Cambrai,  and  was 
always  a  faithful  friend  to  Cardinal  de  BouUlon,  whose  way 
he  smoothed  at  various  crises. 

On  Ms  table  he  always  kept  a  copy  of  P^re  Quesnel's 
"  Nouveau  Testament,"  which  made  such  talk  and  such  a 
terrible  uproar  later.  When  people  expressed  surprise  to 
see  him  with  such  a  book,  on  account  of  its  author,  he  repUed 
that  he  loved  the  good  and  right  wherever  he  found  them ; 
that  he  knew  no  better  book,  nor  one  of  more  abundant  in- 
struction ;  that  he  found  everything  in  it ;  and  as  he  had 
but  httle  time  to  give  to  pious  reading,  he  preferred  that  to 
any  other.  He  alone  influenced  the  distribution  of  benefices 
during  the  fifteen  or  twenty  last  years  of  the  life  of  Harlay, 
archbishop  of  Paris.  His  independence  of  Mme.  de  Main- 
tenon  was  total;  he  held  no  relations  with  her.     She  hated 


It0§]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  87 

him,  —  partly  for  that  reason,  and  partly  for  his  opposition  to 
the  declaration  of  her  marriage ;  but  she  never  dared  to  show 
him  her  teeth,  for  she  knew  the  king's  feeling  for  him. 

When  he  was  nearly  eighty  years  of  age,  P^re  de  La 
Chaise,  whose  head  and  health  were  still  sound,  wished  to 
retire ;  and  he  made  various  ineffectual  attempts  to  do  so. 
The  failure  of  body  and  of  mind  which  he  felt  soon  after 
warned  him  to  redouble  his  efforts.  The  Jesuits,  who  per- 
ceived his  decline  even  more  than  he  did  himself,  and  who 
foresaw  the  diminution  of  his  influence,  exhorted  him  to 
give  place  to  another  of  their  Order,  who  would  have  both 
the  charm  and  the  zeal  of  novelty.  He  sincerely  desired 
rest,  and  he  urged  the  king  to  grant  it  to  him ;  but  in  vain. 
He  was  forced  to  bear  his  burden  to  the  last.  Infirmities 
and  decrepitude  assailed  him.  Abscessed  legs,  extinguished 
memory,  weakened  judgment,  thoughts  confused,  a  strange  and 
improper  condition  for  a  confessor,  nothing  could  repulse  the 
king  ;  to  the  very  last  the  living  corpse  was  brought  into  his 
presence  and  performed  with  him  the  accustomed  exercises. 
Two  days  after  a  return  from  Versailles  he  failed  exceed- 
ingly, received  the  sacraments,  and  had  the  courage,  even 
more  than  the  strength,  to  write  a  long  letter  with  his  own 
hand  to  the  king,  receiving  a  reply  both  tender  and  prompt 
in  the  king's  handwriting ;  after  that  he  turned  to  God  only. 

Pbre  Tcllier  and  Pfere  Daniel,  superiors  in  the  Order, 
asked  him  whether  ho  had  accom])lislied  wliat  his  conscience 
requiic-d,  and  vvlictlif.r  lu;  liad  duly  thought  of  (he  honour 
and  j)roHp(;rity  of  the  (Jonipany.  lie  repHcd  as  to  the  iirst 
point  that  his  mind  was  at  peace ;  anil  us  to  the  second  thoy 
would  soon  sen  by  results  thnt  he  had  nothing  with  which  to 
reproach  hiniHelf.  Shoitly  after  lie  (bed  very  peaceably,  at 
five  o'clock  in  the  morning. 

The  two  superiors  brou|.'ht  to  the  Icing  innnediatcly  after 


88  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  m. 

his  lever  the  keys  of  the  study  of  P^re  de  La  Chaise,  where 
there  were  many  documents  and  papers.  The  king  received 
them  before  all  present  with  the  manner  of  a  prince  accus- 
tomed to  meet  losses :  he  praised  P^re  de  La  Chaise,  above 
all  for  his  kindness ;  then,  smiling  at  the  fathers,  he  said 
aloud  before  the  courtiers :  "  He  was  so  kind  that  I  some- 
times blamed  him  for  being  so,  —  to  which  he  answered,  '  It 
is  not  I  who  am  kind,  but  you  who  are  hard.' "  Truly,  the 
fathers  and  all  who  heard  this  lowered  their  eyes  in  surprise. 
The  tale  spread  rapidly,  and  no  one  thought  Pere  de  La  Chaise 
mistaken. 

Many  a  blow  had  he  warded  from  others  in  his  hfe ; 
many  a  vile  trick  or  anonymous  warning  had  he  suppressed 
or  frustrated  ;  he  served  numbers  and  harmed  none,  unless 
in  self-defence.  People  were  always  aware  that  this  death 
would  bring  a  great  loss ;  but  no  one  imagined  the  deep  and 
universal  wound  it  was  destined  to  cause,  —  a  wound  we  were 
too  soon  made  to  feel  by  the  terrible  successor  of  Pere  de 
La  Chaise,  to  whom  even  the  enemies  of  the  Jesuits  were 
forced  to  render  justice,  admitting  him  to  have  been  a  good 
and  honourable  man  and  well  fitted  for  the  post  he  was 
called  upon  to  fill. 

Mar^chal,  head-surgeon  of  the  king  and  much  in  his  con- 
fidence,  a  perfectly  truthful  and  upright  man,  whom  I  have 
quoted  already  several  times,  told  Madame  de  Saint-Simon 
and  me  a  very  notable  anecdote,  which  ought  not  to  be  for- 
gotten. He  said  that  the  king,  alone  with  him  in  his  private 
cabinet,  was  one  day  regretting  Pere  de  La  Chaise  and  prais- 
ing his  attachment  to  his  person ;  and  he  then  went  on  to 
relate  the  following  signal  proof  the  confessor  had  given  him 
of  that  attachment.  A  few  years  before  his  death,  he  told 
the  king  that  he  felt  he  was  growing  old;  that  age  might 
come  even  sooner  than  he  expected,  when  it  would  be  neces- 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  89 

saiy  for  the  king  to  choose  another  confessor ;  that  the  attach- 
ment he  felt  for  his  person  alone  determined  him  to  entreat 
the  king  to  take  a  confessor  from  his  Company ;  that  he  knew 
his  Company ;  it  was  very  far  from  deserving  all  that  was  said 
and  written  against  it,  but  still,  he  repeated  that  he  Tcnew  it ; 
that  his  attachment  to  the  king's  person  and  to  his  preserva- 
tion demanded  that  he  should  conjure  him  to  grant  what  he 
asked ;  that  the  Company  was  very  extensive  and  composed 
of  all  sorts  of  men  and  minds  for  whom  no  one  could  an- 
swer ;  that  the  king  ought  not  to  drive  it  to  desperation  and 
put  himself  thus  in  the  way  of  a  risk,  as  to  which  he  him- 
self could  not  answer;  for  an  evil  deed  was  soon  done',  of 
which  there  were  many  examples.  Mardchal  felt  that  he 
turned  pale  as  the  king  related  to  him  this  story,  and  hid  as 
best  he  could  the  trouble  it  caused  him.  It  was  this  con- 
sideration, and  this  alone,  which  made  Henri  IV.  recall 
the  Jesuits  and  heap  them  with  benefits. 


iv. 


The  king  was  not  superior  to  Henri  IV. ;  he  took  heed  to 
the  portent  of  Pere  de  La  Chaise  and  did  not  risk  the  ven- 
P6reTeUiercon-  g^ance  of  the  Company  by  choosing  a  con- 
fessor; his  fessor  outside  of  it.  He  wished  to  live,  and 
to  live  in  security.  Therefore  he  commis- 
sioned the  Dues  de  BeauviUiers  and  Chevreuse  to  go  to 
Paris  and  obtain  uiformation,  with  every  precaution,  as  to 
which  Jesuit  he  had  better  select  from  among  them  all 
as  his  confessor.  Both  dukes  were  biased  in  esteem  and 
affection  for  Saint- Sulpice,  and  so  was  M.  de  Cambrai.  La 
Chdtardie,  then  the  rector,  was  a  worthy  man  but  a  species 
of  imbecile ;  led  by  the  Bishop  of  Chartres  he  proposed 
Pere  TeUier ;  the  Jesuits  brought  all  their  batteries  to  bear 
for  the  same  man;  the  two  dukes  were  duped,  and  the 
Church  and  the  State  were  victims.  The  discussion  of  the 
choice  lasted  a  month,  from  the  20th  of  January,  when  P^re 
de  La  Chaise  died,  to  the  21st  of  February  on  which  day 
Pfere  Tellier  was  appointed.  He  was,  like  his  predecessor, 
the  confessor  of  Monseigneur  as  weU ;  a  hard  constraint  on 
a  prince  of  that  age. 

Pfere  Tellier  was  entirely  unknown  to  the  king,  who  only 
knew  his  name  from  seeing  it  on  a  list  of  five  or  six  Jesuits 
made  by  P^re  de  La  Chaise  as  proper  to  succeed  him.  He  had 
passed  through  all  the  grades  of  the  Company,  as  professor, 
theologian,  rector,  superior  of  a  monastery,  and  writer.  He 
had  been  commissioned  to  write  the  defence  of  the  worship 
of  Confucius  and  the  Chinese  ceremonies ;  he  had  taken  up 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUO  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  91 

that  quarrel,  and  written  a  book  which  he  expected  would 
bring  strong  notice  on  himself  and  his  Order,  but  which,  by 
dint  of  intrigues  and  influence  in  Eome,  was  put  in  the 
Index.^ 

His  life  was  hard  by  choice  and  habit ;  he  knew  nothing 
but  assiduous  and  uninterrupted  toil ;  he  exacted  the  same 
from  others  without  mercy,  and  could  not  comprehend  that 
any  should  be  shown.  His  head  and  his  health  were  of  iron, 
his  conduct  also,  his  nature  cruel  and  fierce.  Moulded  in  the 
maxims  and  policy  of  the  Company,  as  much  as  the  hardness 
of  his  character  could  be  moulded,  he  was  profoundly  false, 
deceitful,  hidden  under  fold  within  folds ;  and  when  he  did 
show  himself  in  order  to  be  feared,  exacting  all,  giving  nothing, 
scoffing  at  his  own  word  expressly  pledged,  when  it  suited 
him  to  break  it,  and  persecuting  with  fury  those  who  had 
received  it.  A  terrible  man,  who  aimed  at  nothing  less  than 
destruction,  both  secret  and  open,  and  who,  when  he  reached 
authority,  concealed  himself  no  longer. 

Such  a  man,  inaccessible  even  to  the  Jesuits,  except  to  three 
or  four  of  the  same  strain  as  himself,  became  the  terror  of  the 
rest ;  even  those  three  or  four  never  approached  him  without 
trembling,  and  dared  not  oppose  him  except  with  the  greatest 
caution,  and  then  only  by  showing  that  what  he  proposed 
defeated  his  object,  which  was  ever  the  despotic  reign  of  his 
Company,  its  dogmas,  its  maxims,  and  the  radical  destruction 

^  Saint-Simon  miyn  in  1700:  "  DJKputoH  bopnn  to  mnko  much  talk  about 
the  ccrcmonioH  of  Oonfucius  and  tiio  nnciciitH,  etc.,  which  the  Jesuits  per- 
mitted tlieir  ncopiiytcH  to  praetiHe,  but  wliich  the  foreiffu  nnnHions  forbutU^ 
to  theirH  ;  the  (IrHt  (h-elarinj,'  they  were  purely  <'ivil,  tiie  others  that  they 
were  HuperstitioiiH  and  idolatrous.  The  HtrupjK'"  l)elween  the  two  has  iiad 
Bueh  terrilde  results  that  extensive  reports  and  evi-n  whole  liistorii's  have 
bei'U  wrillen  upon  it.  I  sluill  content  inysidf  with  saying  iu-re  that  the 
books  of  ri'.  Tc'lliir  and  Lc  Couile  were  referred  hy  tiie  foreitjn  luissions 
to  the  Korlioiuie,  and  tliat  after  long  and  careful  uxuuiinuliun  they  wore 
Htron^ly  coiidruined."  — 'I'li. 


92  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.      [cHxr.  ir. 

of  not  only  all  that  was  contrary  to  them,  but  all  that  was 
not  submissive  to  them  with  blind  abandonment.  An 
amazing  feature  of  this  mad  passion  (never  interrupted  for 
a  single  moment)  is  that  he  wanted  nothing  for  himself ; 
he  had  neither  friends  nor  relations ;  he  was  born  malevo- 
lent ;  never  was  he  moved  by  the  pleasure  of  obhging.  He 
came  of  the  dregs  of  the  people,  and  did  not  conceal  it ;  so 
violent  was  he  that  he  made  the  wise  Jesuits  afraid  of  him, 
and  even  the  more  numerous  ardent  ones  dreaded  lest  he 
should  drive  them  to  an  overthrow,  and  cause  the  Company 
to  be  expelled  again. 

His  exterior  promised  nothing  less,  and  kept  its  word  ;  he 
would  have  frightened  any  one  at  the  edge  of  a  wood.  His 
face  was  darksome,  false,  terrible  ;  the  eyes  burning,  malig- 
nant, extremely  crafty  ;  they  struck  as  they  looked  at  you. 

This  is  an  exact  and  faithful  portrait  of  a  man  who  had 
devoted  soul  and  body  to  his  Company,  who  received  no  other 
nourishment  than  its  mysteries,  who  knew  no  God  but  It, 
who  had  passed  his  hfe  in  the  study  of  it,  whose  spirit  and 
whose  fibre  were  of  it,  but  who  was  in  all  other  respects  — 
and  this  is  not  perhaps  surprising  —  coarse  and  amazingly 
ignorant,  insolent,  impudent,  vehement ;  knowing  neither  the 
world,  nor  propriety,  nor  stations,  nor  discretion,  nor,  in  fact, 
anything  whatever,  and  to  whom  all  means  were  good  if  they 
reached  his  ends.  He  had  perfected  himself  in  Rome  in  the 
maxims  and  policy  of  his  Company,  which  was  forced  by 
the  heat  of  his  temper  and  the  rigidity  of  his  nature  to  send 
him  hastily  back  to  France  during  the  excitement  caused  in 
Rome  by  putting  his  book  in  the  Index. 

The  first  time  he  saw  the  king  in  his  cabinet  after  he  was 
presented,  no  one  was  present  but  Bloin  and  Fagon  in  a 
corner.  Fagon,  bent  nearly  double  and  leaning  on  his  stick, 
watched  the  interview,  the  countenance  of  the  new  person- 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  93 

age,  his  bowing  and  cringing,  and  his  words.  The  king  asked 
him,  among  other  things,  if  he  was  a  relative  of  the  MM.  Le 
Tellier.  He  replied  in  abject  tones :  "  I,  sire,  the  relative  of 
the  MM.  Le  Tellier  !  I  am  far  indeed  from  that ;  I  am  only 
a  poor  peasant  from  Normandy,  where  my  father  was  a 
farmer."  Fagon,  who  was  losing  nothing,  twisted  himself 
round  to  Bloin,  and  said,  trying  to  look  up  at  him  :  "  What  a 
damned ! "  then,  shrugging  his  shoulders,  he  put  him- 
self back  on  his  stick.  He  found  out  before  long  that  he 
was  not  mistaken  in  so  strange  a  judgment  on  a  confessor. 
The  latter  had  assumed  the  appearance,  not  to  say  the  hypo- 
critical grimaces,  of  a  man  who  dreaded  the  ofHce  and  was 
only  forced  into  it  by  obedience  to  his  Company. 

I  have  enlarged  upon  this  new  confessor  because  through 
him  came  all  the  incredible  troubles  beneath  which  Church, 
State,  knowledge,  doctrine,  and  so  many  worthy  persons  of 
all  kinds,  groan  to  this  day ;  and  also  because  I  had  a  more 
immediate  and  private  acquaintance  with  this  terrible 
personage  than  any  other  man  about  the  Court. 

My  father  and  mother  put  me  in  the  hands  of  the  Jesuits 
to  train  me  to  religion,  and  they  chose  among  them  for- 
tunately ;  for,  whatever  may  be  published  about  the  Company 
it  must  not  be  thought  that  there  are  no  members,  here  and 
there,  who  are  not  most  saintly  and  enlightened.  I  contmued 
therefore  where  my  parents  put  me,  but  without  close 
relations  with  any  except  the  one  to  whom  I  addressed  my- 
self. His  name  was  Pore  Sanadon,  and  he  had  the  chief 
charge  of  the  Retreats  to  which  the  Jesuits  sent  their  novices^ 
and  also  secular  persona,  several  times  a  year.  This  em- 
ployment brought  hini,  necessarily,  into  relations  witli  tho 
HU[)(;ric)rH,  and  conHe(|ucntIy  with  Voiv.  Tellier  at  the  lime  ho 
was  Hclected  as  confessor. 

I  was  much  surprised  about  a  fortnight  or  throo   wooka 


94  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAIXT-SIMON.     [chap.  iv. 

after  Pfere  Tellier  had  entered  upon  his  ministry  —  for  it  was 
a  very  real  ministr}',  though  widely  apart  from  the  others  — 
when  Pfere  Sanadon  came  to  tell  me  that  the  confessor 
wished  to  be  presented  to  me ;  that  was  the  term  employed 
and  the  one  used  by  Pfere  Tellier  himself  when  he  was 
brought  to  me  the  next  day.  I  had  never  seen  him,  nor 
had  I  called  or  sent  to  offer  my  congratulations  on  liis 
appointment.  He  overwhelmed  me  with  compliments,  and 
ended  by  asking  permission  to  come  and  see  me  sometimes, 
and  also  that  I  would  do  him  the  favour  to  receive  him 
kindly.  In  two  words,  he  wanted  to  ally  himself  with  me, 
and  I,  who  distrusted  him,  and,  having  no  one  in  my  family 
who  belonged  to  the  Church,  did  not  need  him  and  there- 
fore would  have  preferred  to  evade  him  politely,  was,  so  to 
speak,  violated.  He  paid  me  frequent  visits,  talked  to  me 
of  public  matters,  and,  to  tell  the  truth,  worried  me  by  the 
danger  of  repulsing  him  in  any  open  manner,  and  the  equal 
danger  of  entering  into  public  matters  with  him.  This  forced 
intimacy,  to  which  I  responded  only  passively,  lasted  until 
the  death  of  the  king ;  and  through  it  I  learned  many  things 
which  will  appear  in  their  own  course  of  time. 

He  must  have  been  led  to  this  by  Pfere  Sanadon,  who 
apparently  told  him  of  my  intimate  relations  with  the  Dues 
de  Beauvilliers  and  Chevreuse ;  perhaps  also  of  those  I  had 
(though  at  that  time  most  carefully  hidden)  with  the  Due 
de  Bourgogne,  and  also  with  the  Due  d'Orldans.  It  is  true 
that  from  this  time  forward  I  was  dawning  strongly  in  public 
matters,  though  still  under  cover;  for  though  I  had  long 
taken  part  in  many  important  matters,  the  bulk  of  the  Court 
people  knew  it  very  imperfectly. 

The  Prince  de  Conti  died  Thursday,  February  21,  at  nine 
o'clock  in  the  morning  of  a  long  illness  which  ended  in 
dropsy.     Gout    had   reduced   him    to   milk    for    his    only 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  95 

nourishment,  whicli   bad  long  suited   him   well ;  at   length 

his   stomach  wearied   of   it,   but   his   doctor   insisted   upon 

its   use   and   so  killed    him.      When   it  was 

Death  and  char- 
acter of  the  too  late,  he  asked  and  obtamed  permission  to 
Prince  da  conti.     g^,^^  ^^  Switzerland  for   an   exceUent  French 

doctor  who  was  exiled  there,  named  Trouillon ;  who,  as 
soon  as  he  arrived,  declared  there  was  no  hope.  The 
prince  was  not  yet  forty-five  years  old. 

His  face  was  charming.  Even  the  defects  of  his  body  and 
those  of  his  mind  had  infinite  graces.  Shoulders  too  high, 
a  head  that  leaned  too  much  to  one  side,  a  laugh  that  would 
have  been  thought  a  bray  in  others,  and  with  it  all  a  strange 
absent-mindedness.  Gallant  with  every  woman,  in  love  with 
several,  well-treated  by  all,  he  was  still  more  charming  to 
men.  He  made  it  a  duty  to  please  his  shoemaker,  his  lacque}'-, 
the  porters  who  carried  his  chair,  just  as  he  did  the  ministers 
of  State,  the  great  seigneurs,  the  generals  of  the  army ;  and 
all  so  naturally  that  success  was  certain.  He  was  the  constant 
delight  of  society,  of  the  Court  and  the  army,  the  divinity  of 
tlie  people,  the  idol  of  the  soldiers,  the  hero  of  the  officers, 
the  hope  of  all  who  were  most  distinguished,  the  treasure  of 
parliament,  the  friend,  with  discernment,  of  learned  men, 
and  often  the  admiration  of  the  Sorbonne,  of  astronomers, 
mathematicians,  and  lawyers  of  all  kinds.  His  was  a  fine 
mind,  hnninous,  just,  exact,  vast,  widely  extended;  ho  had 
read  infinitely  and  forgotten  nothing,  possessing  general  and 
special  history,  knowing  genealogies,  their  mytlis  and  their 
realities,  certain  of  wiicre  lie  had  learned  each  thing  and 
each  fact,  discerning  true  sources,  retaining  and  judging  all 
that  conversation  taught  him,  without  confusion,  nii.xtnre,  or 
1)1  under,  and  with  singular  jirecision. 

IVr.  (1<»  Monl.uiHicr  and  the  Itislio])  of  l\I(\au\,  win*  had  si-cn 
liini  grow  nj)  heside    ]\loiisi'i;^n('nr,  loved   him   tenderly,  and 


96  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUC  DE  SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  it. 

he  them  confidingly.  He  was  the  same  with  the  Dues  de 
Chevreuse  and  Beauvilliers,  the  Archbishop  of  Cambrai,  and 
the  Cardinals  d'Estr^es  and  Janson.  M.  le  Prince,  the  hero, 
did  not  conceal  a  Hking  for  him  beyond  that  for  his  own 
children  ;  he  was  the  comfort  of  his  last  years.  In  his  exile 
and  retirement  he  knew  all  through  him,  and  by  his  hand  he 
wrote  a  number  of  most  curious  things.  The  Prince  de 
Conti  was  also  the  heart  and  the  confidant  of  M.  de  Luxem- 
bourg in  his  last  years. 

In  him  the  useful  and  the  fruitless,  the  charming  and  the 
learned  were  each  distinct  and  in  their  place.  He  had 
friends  ;  he  knew  how  to  choose  them,  to  cultivate  them,  to 
visit  them,  to  live  with  them,  to  put  himself  at  their  level 
without  assumption  and  without  servility.  He  also  had 
women  friends,  independently  of  love.  Gentle  to  compliance 
in  intercourse,  polite,  yet  always  with  a  politeness  which  dis- 
tinguished age,  merit,  and  rank,  with  circumspection  to  all. 
He  defrauded  no  one.  He  gave  what  the  princes  of  the 
blood  ought  to  give,  but  which  they  give  no  longer ;  he  ex- 
pressed himself  clearly  on  their  usurpations  and  on  the 
record  of  usages  and  their  many  alterations.  The  history  of 
books  and  conversations  gave  him  the  means  of  addressing, 
with  imperceptible  art,  the  most  obliging  things  to  others  on 
their  birth,  employments,  and  actions.  His  wit  was  natural, 
brilliant,  lively,  and  liis  repartees  quick,  and  amusing,  never 
hurtful ;  he  showed  courtesy  in  everything,  but  without 
affectation;  though  sharing  the  frivolity  of  the  world,  the 
Court,  the  women,  and  talking  their  language,  his  mind  was 
nevertheless  solid  and  sensible.  He  gave  of  it  to  all ;  he  put 
himself  always  and  marvellously  within  the  reach  and  at 
the  level  of  others,  and  spoke  the  language  of  each  with 
incomparable  facility.  Everything  about  him  seemed  easy. 
He  had  the  valour  of   heroes,  their   bearing   in   war,  their 


1709]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  97 

simplicity  wherever  they  are,  which,  all  the  same,  hid  a  great 
deal  of  art.  These  marks  of  a  hero's  talent  might  be  left  as 
the  final  touch  to  his  portrait,  but,  like  all  men,  he  had  his 
other  side. 

This  man,  so  amiable,  so  charming,  so  delightful,  loved 
nothing.  He  had  and  he  wanted  friends,  as  we  want  and 
have  furniture.  Although  he  was  self-respecting,  he  was 
also  a  submissive  courtier ;  he  steered  his  way  with  all  and 
showed  too  plainly  that  he  sought  his  own  needs  in  men  and 
things  ;  avaricious,  eager  for  possessions,  greedy,  unfair.  His 
suits  against  Mme.  de  Nemours  and  his  methods  of  pursuing 
them  did  him  no  honour ;  still  less  did  his  base  compliance 
with  the  persons  and  rank  of  the  bastards,  whom  he  could 
not  endure,  and  with  all  others  of  whom  he  stood  in  any 
need. 

The  king  was  truly  distressed  at  giving  him  the  consider- 
ation he  could  not  refuse  him,  and  he  was  most  careful  not 
to  overpass  it  by  a  single  inch.  He  had  never  forgiven  him 
his  journey  to  Hungary.  Intercepted  letters  (which  had 
ruined  their  writers,  though  the  sons  of  favourites)  had 
roused  a  hatred  in  Mme.  de  Maintenon  and  an  indignation 
in  the  king  which  nothing  could  ever  efface.  The  virtues, 
talents,  charms,  the  great  reputation  the  prince  had  acquired, 
the  universal  love  he  had  won,  were  turned  by  them  into  so 
many  crimes.  The  contrast  with  M.  du  Maine  excited  the 
daily  vexation  of  the  governess  and  the  tender  father,  which 
broke  out  in  spite  of  tliem.  Moreover,  the  purity  of  his 
blood,  the  only  blood  in  the  family  not  mingled  witli  bas- 
tardy, was  another  demerit  which  was  felt  at  all  moments. 
Even  hifl  friends  were  in  bad  odour,  iiu'l  were  made  to  feel  it. 

And  y(!t,  in  H])it(!  of  servile  fear,  ev(Mi  the  coiirtiers  likod 
to  u])pn)a(;li  the  Prince  d(i  (^oiiti.  They  were  iluttorod  by 
fiuniliar   access   to   him ;    th(!   most  important  porsous,  the 

VOL.   II.  —  7 


98  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON,    [chap,  iv, 

choicest  in  society,  ran  after  him.  In  the  very  salon  of 
Marly  he  was  surrounded  by  all  who  were  most  reSned. 
His  conversation  was  delightful,  on  any  topic  that  came  up 
casually ;  young  and  old  found  instruction  and  pleasure  in 
it,  from  the  charm  with  which  he  expressed  himself,  the  pre- 
cision of  liis  memory,  and  the  fulness  of  his  remarks,  though 
he  was  not  what  is  called  a  talker.  It  is  not  a  figure  of 
speech,  it  is  a  truth,  occurring  a  hundred  times,  that  in  listen- 
ing to  him  the  hour  of  meals  was  forgotten.  The  king  knew 
this,  and  was  piqued ;  and  sometimes  he  was  not  sorry  to  let 
his  annoyance  be  seen.  And  yet,  in  spite  of  it,  the  charm 
was  not  lessened ;  servility,  so  predominating  in  the  shghtest 
things  at  Court,  failed  here. 

No  man  ever  had  so  much  art  concealed  beneath  a  sim- 
plicity so  artless,  without  the  shghtest  affectation  in  any- 
thing. All  things  flowed  easily  from  him,  nothing  was 
forced ;  nothing  was  studied ;  nothing  ever  cost  him  any 
trouble.  People  were  not  ignorant  that  he  could  not  love, 
or  of  his  other  defects,  but  all  was  overlooked,  and  they  loved 
him  truly ;  sometimes  they  blamed  themselves  for  this,  but 
they  never  con'ected  it.  Monseigneur,  with  whom  he  was 
brought  up,  retamed  as  much  regard  for  him  as  he  was 
capable  of  feeling,  but  then  he  had  no  less  for  M.  de  Ven- 
dome,  and  the  interior  of  his  Court  was  divided  between 
the  two. 

Mgr.  le  Due  de  Bourgogne,  brought  up  in  the  hands  of 
those  who  were  favourable  to  the  Prince  de  Conti,  was  out- 
wardly reserved  with  him,  but  the  inward  tie  of  esteem  and 
friendship  was  close  and  solidly  estabhshed.  They  had, 
both  of  them,  the  same  friends,  the  same  jealousies  to 
meet,  the  same  enemies,  and,  without  an  externally  imited 
appearance,  their  union  was  perfect. 

The  Due  d'Orldans  and  the  Prince  de  Conti  were  never 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  99 

compatible ;  the  extreme  superiority  of  the  duke's  rank  galled 
the  princes  of  the  blood,  and  the  Prince  de  Conti  had  allowed 
himself  to  be  influenced  by  the  two  others  of  his  family.  He 
and  M.  le  Due  had  treated  the  Due  de  Chartres  too  much  as 
a  boy  during  his  first  campaign,  and  with  too  little  deference 
and  consideration  in  the  second.  Jealousy  of  the  prince's  in- 
tellect, his  learning,  his  valour  still  further  parted  them.  The 
Due  d'Orl^ans  never  had  the  faculty  of  drawing  people  about 
him,  and  he  could  not  rid  himself  of  annoyance  when  he 
saw  them  humming  around  the  Prince  de  Conti  incessantly. 
A  domestic  love-affair  was  the  crown  of  his  annoyance. 
Conti  charmed  a  person  who,  without  being  constant,  never 
truly  cared  in  all  her  hfe  for  any  one  but  him.  It  was  tliis 
love  that  turned  him  from  Poland,  and  it  ended  only  with 
his  life ;  it  lasted,  in  fact,  long  after  in  the  bosom  of  her  who 
gave  birth  to  it ;  perhaps  after  all  these  years  it  still  survives 
in  the  depths  of  a  heart  which  has  nevertheless  abandoned 
itself  elsewhere.  M.  le  Prince  never  could  prevent  himself 
from  loving  his  son-in-law,  who  paid  him  great  respect.  In 
spite  of  many  domestic  reasons  against  it,  his  tastes  and  his 
instincts  led  him  to  this  intercourse.  It  was  not  always 
without  a  cloud  ;  but  esteem  came  ever  to  the  support  of 
liking,  and  together  they  surmounted  the  vexation.  The 
son-in-law  was  the  heart  and  the  whole  consolation  of 
Mme.  la  Princesse. 

The  Prince  de  Conti  lived  with  extreme  consideration  for 
his  wife,  even  with  friendship,  though  not  without  some 
annoyance  from  her  tcm])Gr,  her  caprices,  and  her  jealousy.  Ho 
glided  over  all  that,  Iiowevcr,  and  was  always  on  good  terms 
will)  h(;r.  As  for  his  son,  young  as  hi',  wms  he.  coiiM  not. 
enduH!  him,  and  showed  his  feelings  too  much  in  his  homo. 
His  diHC(;rnment  forewarned  him  of  what  his  son  would  some 
day  prove  to  bo.     He  would  rather  have  had  no  son,  oxi'ept 


100  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,    [chap.  iv. 

for  continuing  the  branch,  and  time  has  shown  that  his 
judgment  was  not  wrong.  His  daughter,  the  Duchesse  de 
Bourbon,  had  all  his  tenderness ;  the  other  daughter  he 
contented  himself  with  treating  well. 

With  M.  du  Maine  he  had  none  but  the  most  indispensable 
relations ;  nor  did  he  fear  him.  The  Prince  de  Conti  knew 
and  felt  too  much  on  this  matter  not  to  allow  himself  a 
certain  liberty,  which  was  all  the  more  sweet  to  him  because 
it  was  applauded.  Courtier  as  he  was,  he  could  not  deny 
himself  the  satisfaction  of  touching  the  subject  occasionally 
on  the  raw,  in  a  way  that  the  bastards  dared  not  openly  take 
up.  The  king  was  never  reconciled  to  him,  no  matter  what 
pains,  art,  humiliation,  and  perseverance  he  constantly  em- 
ployed ;  and  it  was  really  of  this  implacable  hatred  that  he 
died  at  last,  from  despair  at  not  attaining  to  anything  what- 
ever, still  less,  as  he  had  fondly  hoped,  to  the  command  of 
the  armies,  and  in  being  left  the  only  prince  without  duties, 
without  government,  without  even  a  regiment,  while  all  the 
others,  and  still  more  the  bastards,  were  loaded  with  them. 
When  hope  was  at  an  end  he  tried  to  drown  his  disappoint- 
ment in  wine  and  other  amusements  which  were  not  of  his 
age,  and  which  his  body,  enfeebled  by  the  pleasures  of 
his  youth,  was  too  weak  to  bear.  Gout  seized  upon  him ; 
and  thus,  deprived  of  pleasures  and  suffering  pains  of  body 
and  of  mind,  he  wasted  away ;  and  then,  at  the  last  moment, 
as  if  to  crown  his  bitterness,  a  return  of  fortune  too  sure 
and   glorious  not  to  be  regretted,  came  to  him. 

We  have  seen  that  he  was  chosen  to  command  in  chief 
the  various  troops  of  the  Italian  league.  Conti  quivered 
with  joy.  He  had  never  counted  much  on  the  execution  of 
that  league ;  he  had  seen  the  project  vanishing  away ;  he 
himself  no  longer  expected  anything.  Therefore  when  the 
choice  fell  upon  him  he  let  himself  go  into  the  most  delight- 


1709]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  101 

fill  hopes.  But  it  was  too  late !  his  health  was  desperate ; 
he  soon  felt  it  himself,  and  this  tardy  recognition  of  him 
served  only  to  make  him  regret  life  more.  He  perished 
slowly,  grieving  that  past  neglect  had  brought  him  to  a 
death  from  which  this  unhoped-for  change  in  the  king  and 
the  opening  of  so  brilliant  a  career  could  no  longer  save  him. 

He  chose  Pfere  de  La  Tour,  the  general  of  the  Oratoire,  to 
prepare  him  and  help  him  to  die  rightly.  He  clung  so  much 
to  life  and  had  just  been  so  strongly  reattached  to  it,  that 
he  needed  the  highest  courage.  For  three  months  a  crowd 
of  persons  filled  his  house,  and  the  populace  filled  the  open 
square  in  front  of  it.  The  churches  echoed  with  the  prayers 
of  all,  the  most  obscure  as  well  as  those  most  widely  known ; 
it  happened  several  times  that  the  servants  of  his  wife  and 
of  his  daughters  went  from  church  to  church  to  have  masses 
said  for  him,  and  found  them  all  engaged  by  others  for  that 
purpose.  Nothing  so  gratifying  had  ever  happened  to  any- 
one. At  Court,  in  town,  inquiries  were  ceaseless.  Passers 
in  the  street  asked  each  other  about  him ;  people  were 
stopped  at  the  doors  of  shops  and  houses,  where  questions 
were  put  to  them. 

At  last  he  was  unwilling  to  see  any  one,  even  the  prin- 
cesses ;  and  none  approached  him  but  those  who  were  strictly 
necessary,  together  with  P^re  de  La  Tour,  M.  Fleury,  who 
liad  been  his  tutor,  and  two  or  three  other  worthy  persons. 
lie  kept  his  presence  of  mind  up  to  the  last  moment,  and 
used  it.  He  died  in  the  mid.st  of  them,  seated  in  his  arm- 
cliair,  with  the  deepest  feelings  of  piety,  about  which  I  have 
heard  Pbre  <1(!  \ax  Tour  relate  many  interesting  things,  ilo 
chose  his  burial-place  at  Saint-Andrd  des  Arcs,  beside  his 
virtuous  mother. 

liogrctR  were  bitter  ami  uiiivcnsnl.  His  incniory  is  still 
ilciir.      l!uL   lf;L   us  Miiy   nil  :    pcrlmiis    In;    gaiiird   by    neglect. 


102  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.it. 

Firmness  of  mind  was  less  in  him  than  gifts  of  mettle ;  he 
was  very  great  by  hope ;  possibly  he  might  have  wanted 
nerve  at  the  head  of  an  army,  —  still  more  in  the  councils  of 
the  king,  had  he  entered  them. 

But  now,  all  things  were  perishing  visibly :  the  kingdom 
was  entii'ely  exhausted  ;  the  troops  were  not  paid,  and  resent- 
sinffuiar  coinci-  ^^  ^^  ^^"^8  always  badly  led,  and  consequently 
dence  of  thought    defeated;  the  finances  were  without  resources; 

between  the  Due 

de  chevreuse        no  rcliauce  was  placed  on  the  capacity  of  gen- 
™^"  erals  or  ministers ;  no  selection  of  them  made 

except  from  fancy  or  through  intrigue;  nothing  was  pun- 
ished, nothing  examined,  nothing  weighed ;  equal  incapacity 
existed  for  maintaining  the  war  or  for  making  peace ;  all 
things  were  proceeding  m  silence,  in  gloom ;  and  no  one 
dared  to  put  his  hand  to  that  tottering  arch  so  near  to  falling. 
I  had  often  broken  out  about  these  distresses  to  the  Dues 
de  Chevreuse  and  de  Beauvilliers,  and  still  more  about  their 
causes.  The  prudence  and  piety  of  the  dukes  put  down  my 
complaints,  but  did  not  destroy  them.  Accustomed  as  they 
were  to  the  style  of  government  which  they  had  always  seen 
and  in  which  they  bore  a  part,  I  put  a  check  on  my  con- 
fidences as  to  the  remedies  about  which  I  had  long  been 
thiukino'.  I  was  so  full  of  these  remedies,  however,  that  for 
years  I  had  put  them  on  paper,  —  more  for  my  own  comfort 
and  to  prove  to  myself  their  utility  and  possibihty,  than 
with  any  hope  that  they  could  ever  be  used.  They  had 
never  seen  the  light,  nor  had  I  ever  mentioned  them  to  any 
one,  when,  one  afternoon,  the  Due  de  Chevreuse  called  to  see 
me  in  the  apartment  of  the  late  Mar^chal  de  Lorges  which 
I  then  occupied,  and  came  up  at  once  to  a  httle  entresol  with 
a  fireplace  where  I  had  my  study,  with  which  he  was  famil- 
iar. He  was  full  of  the  present  state  of  things,  spoke  of  it 
bitterly,  and  proposed  to  me  to  search  for  remedies. 


1709]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  103 

In  my  turn  I  pressed  him;  I  asked  liim  if  lie  thought 
any  were  possible,  —  not  that  I  believed  all  remedies  hope- 
less, but  that  the  obstacles  seemed  so  great.  He  was  a  man 
who  always  hoped,  and  wanted  to  advance  upon  his  hopes. 
I  say  advance,  but  never  for  himself.  This  method  of  pro- 
ceeding satisfied  his  passion  for  reasoning,  and  did  no  vio- 
lence to  his  prudence  or  his  policy ;  it  was  that  which 
provoked  me ;  I  hate  castles  in  the  air,  and  arguments  that 
do  not  lead  to  anytliing.  I  saw  the  manifest  impossibility 
of  a  wise  and  fortunate  government  just  so  long  as  the  pres- 
ent system  lasted ;  and  I  also  saw  the  same  impossibility 
of  any  change,  because  of  the  king's  habit,  and  the  opinion 
he  held  that  the  power  of  his  ministers  and  officers  was  his  ; 
which  made  it  impossible  to  limit  that  power,  or  divide  it,  or 
to  persuade  him  that  he  could  safely  admit  to  his  council 
persons  who  did  not  bring  absolute  proofs  of  low  birth  or 
novelty  ^  —  unless  it  were  the  chief  of  the  council  of  finance 
(because  nothing  depended  upon  him).  What  I  had  formerly 
written  down  as  a  remedy  for  all  that  (for  my  own  satisfac- 
tion) I  had  now  consigned  to  the  shades,  regarding  it  as  a 
republic  of  Plato. 

My  surprise  was  therefore  great  when  M.  de  Chevreuse, 
unbosoming  himself  more  and  more,  began  to  unfold  the 
same  ideas  as  I  myself  had  had.  He  liked  to  talk,  and  ho 
talk(Ml  well,  with  accuracy,  precision,  and  selection.  Every 
one  liked  to  hear  him.  I  listened  therefore  with  all  ;itten- 
tion,  ania/ed  to  find  in  him  my  thoughts,  my  scheme,  my  proj- 
ect, from  which  I  had  always  believed  that  he  and  M.  do 

1  liouis  XIV.  Biiys  hiiUHL'lf  in  \m  Memoirs  (vol.  i.  pp.  82,  'M\) :  "  It  was 
not  my  intunrnt  to  lake  [iih  iiiiniHliTHj  men  of  eminent  qnality.  It  whm 
iicccHHary,  above  ail  thin^jH,  to  let  tlie  public  know,  by  the  rank  from  wliieh 
I  took  tliem,  tliat  my  intention  watt  not  to  Hliaro  my  antiiority  willt  tbem. 
It  waH  imjiortant  to  me  tbat  tliey  Nlioiild  not  of  themNelveH  e()t\('eive 
greater  liopeH  than  tlicmt'  wliicli  it  pleaHed  me  to  k'v^'  tl>em.  'I'IiIh  in  ililll- 
cult  willi  ptrHOMM  of  Jiigli  birlli."     (Niilc  by  French  editor.) 


104  MEMOIRS   OF  THE  DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  iv. 

Beauvilliers  were  so  far  removed  that  I  had  carefully  kept 
myself  from  explaming  it  to  them,  because,  whatever  might 
be  my  unreserved  confidence  in  them  and  theirs  in  me,  I 
knew  the  inutihty  of  butting  head-foremost  against  their 
habit  of  proceeding  by  persuasion,  and  also  because  of  the 
impossibility  of  inducing  them  to  do  anytliing,  no  matter 
what,  with  the  king.  M.  de  Chevreuse  talked  long,  de- 
veloped his  plan,  repeated  my  own  to  me,  with  httle  change 
and  that  so  insignificant  that  I  was  stupefied. 

At  the  end  he  noticed  my  extreme  surprise ;  he  wanted  to 
make  me  speak  in  my  turn  about  his  proposition,  and  I 
could  only  answer  him  in  monosyllables,  absorbed  as  I  was 
in  the  singularity  of  this  experience.  He  was  now  surprised 
himself,  being  accustomed  to  my  usual  frankness  and  to 
hearing  me  expand  to  him,  and  (if  I  dare  to  say  so,  consider- 
ing the  difference  between  us)  praise,  approve,  dispute,  or 
blame ;  for  the  two  brothers-in-law  allowed  me  to  do  all  that. 
He  saw  me  silent,  self-contained,  dull.  "  But  do  speak  to 
me,"  he  said  at  last.  "  Wliat  is  the  matter  with  you  to-day  ? 
Frankly,  have  I  been  talking  nonsense  ? "  Then  I  could 
hold  in  no  longer,  and  without  answering  a  word  I  took  a 
key  from  my  pocket  and  rose,  opened  a  closet  which  was 
behind  me,  and  took  out  three  small  cahiers  in  my  hand- 
writing and  gave  them  to  him.  "  There,  monsieur,"  I  said, 
"now  see  what  has  caused  my  surprise  and  silence."  He 
read;  then  he  hastily  ran  his  eye  through  them  all  and 
found  his  own  plan.  Never  did  I  see  a  man  so  astonished, 
or  rather  two  men,  the  one  after  the  other. 

He  saw  the  whole  embodiment  of  the  form  of  government 
he  had  been  proposing  to  me;  he  saw  the  places  in  the 
councils  filled  with  names  (some  of  persons  who  were  dead 
since  I  wrote  them) ;  he  saw  the  harmonizing  of  their  differ- 
ent departments,  and  that  of  the  ministers  with  each  of  the 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  105 

councils ;  he  saw  even  to  the  detail  of  the  salaries,  in  com- 
parison with  those  now  given  by  the  kmg.  I  had  formed 
the  Councils  of  such  men  as  I  believed  most  fitted,  replying 
to  myself  on  objections  against  persons ;  and  I  had  written 
down  the  salaries,  again  replying  to  myself  on  the  question 
of  expense ;  comparing  them  with  what  the  king  paid  for 
his.  These  precautions  enchanted  M.  de  Chevreuse.  Nearly 
all  the  selections  pleased  him,  and  also  the  balance  of  the 
salaries. 

He  and  I  were  a  long  time  in  recovering  from  our 
reciprocal  surprise,  after  which  we  reasoned ;  and  the  more 
we  reasoned,  the  more  we  found  ourselves  perfectly  agreed ; 
except  that  I  had  gone  deeper  and  drawn  out  more  precisely 
all  the  parts  of  the  same  plan.  He  entreated  me  to  lend 
him  my  scheme  for  a  few  days,  as  he  wanted  to  examine  it 
at  his  leisure.  Eight  or  ten  days  later  he  brought  it  back. 
He  and  M.  de  BeauvilHers  had  discussed  it  together  fully ; 
they  found  almost  nothing  to  change,  and  the  little  that 
they  found  was  unimportant ;  but  the  difficulty  lay  in  the  ex- 
ecution. They  believed  it  to  be  impossible  with  the  king  — 
as  I  myself  had  always  thought.  They  begged  me  earnestly 
to  preserve  the  paper  carefully  for  future  times,  when  it 
might  be  used ;  the  times  he  meant  were  those  of  the 
Due  de  Bourgogne. 

We  shall  see  in  tlie  end  that  this  project  was  the  source 
from  which  came  that  of  the  Councils  (but  very  shapeless  and 
ill-digested)  on  the  deatli  of  tlu;  king,  this  plan  having  been 
found  among  the  jiupcrs  of  the  Due  do  Bourgogne  at  his 
decease.  All  these  things  will  explain  themselves  at  tlieir 
own  time.  Had  it  come  to  a  question  of  execution  1  should 
have  changed  certain  things,  but  nolhiiig  rundanuMitnl  or 
eHHcntial  ;  and  if  the  jiriuce  luid  reigned,  Mie  exeeudon  of 
tiiis  pliin,  and  of  H(!ve.nil  oIlie.rH,  would  have  taken  place. 


106  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,    [chap.  iv. 

The  winter  had  beeu  tenible ;  it  was  such  that  the 
memory  of  man  could  not  recall  any  that  approached  it. 
Terrible  winter;  -^  frost,  wMch  lasted  nearly  two  months  at 
frightful  poverty,  ^j^g  same  Severity,  had,  during  the  first  few 
days  of  it,  frozen  the  rivers  solid  to  their  mouths  and  also 
the  edges  of  the  sea,  so  that  carts,  heavily  laden,  passed 
over  them.  A  false  thaw  melted  the  snow  which  covered 
the  ground,  and  this  was  followed  by  a  second  frost,  as 
severe  as  the  preceding  one  and  lasting  three  weeks  longer. 
The  severity  of  the  two  frosts  was  such  that  Queen-of- 
Hungary  water,  the  strongest  elixirs,  the  most  spirituous 
liquors  burst  their  bottles  in  rooms  with  fires  and  sur- 
rounded by  chimney  flues,  in  many  of  the  apartments  at 
Versailles.  I  saw  several;  and  one  evening,  supping  with 
the  Due  de  Villeroy  in  his  little  bedroom,  the  ice  formed  in 
our  glasses  while  merely  coming  from  his  tiny  kitchen, 
where  there  was  a  great  fire,  through  a  very  small  ante- 
chamber, all  on  the  same  level.  It  is  the  same  apartment 
his  son  has  to-day. 

This  second  frost  was  the  ruin  of  everything.  The  fruit- 
trees  perished;  neither  chestnut,  olive,  nor  apple  trees,  nor 
even  vineyards  survived,  or  so  few  that  they  are  not  worth 
mentioning.  Other  trees  died  in  great  numbers ;  gardens 
were  ruined,  and  all  seeds  were  killed  in  the  ground.  No 
one  will  comprehend  the  desolation  caused  by  this  general 
ruin.  Every  man  hid  away  his  old  grain.  Bread  grew 
dearer  in  proportion  to  the  despair  of  a  harvest.  The 
wisest  resowed  barley  in  fields  where  there  had  been  wheat, 
and  many  others  followed  their  example.  These  were  the 
lucky  ones,  and  salvation  came  through  them.  But  the 
police  took  a  notion  to  forbid  it,  of  which  they  repented 
too  late.  Several  edicts  were  published  about  wheat; 
searches  were  made,  stores  of  it  being  amassed;   but  com- 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  107 

missaries  were  not  sent  about  the  provinces  until  three 
months  after  the  time  promised ;  and  all  this  brought  to  a 
fatal  pitch  the  dearness  and  the  poverty  at  a  time  when  it 
was  evident  from  computations  that  enough  wheat  was  stored 
in  France  to  feed  the  nation  for  two  whole  years  independ- 
ently of  any  harvest. 

Many  persons  believed  that  the  government  financiers 
had  seized  this  occasion  to  get  possession  of  the  wheat  by 
emissaries  sent  to  all  the  markets  of  the  kingdom,  in  order 
to  sell  it  later  at  any  price  they  chose,  for  the  king's  profit, 
not  forgetting  their  own.  A  very  considerable  number  of 
barges  laden  with  wheat  (which  spoiled  on  the  Loire  and 
was  thrown  into  the  river)  had  been  purchased  by  the 
king,  and  this  did  not  diminish  the  conviction,  for  it  was 
impossible  to  hush  up  the  circumstance.  It  is  certain  that 
the  price  of  wheat  was  uniform  in  all  the  provincial  markets 
of  the  kingdom ;  that  in  Paris  the  commissaries  put  up  the 
price  arbitrarily,  and  often  forced  the  vendors  to  raise  it 
against  their  wishes  ;  that  in  reply  to  the  cries  of  the  people 
as  to  how  long  the  dearness  would  last,  some  of  the  com- 
missaries (and  in  a  market  not  two  steps  from  my  house 
near  Saint-Germain  des  Prds)  made  this  plain  answer :  "  Just 
so  long  as  you  please,"  —  meaning  to  be  understood,  they 
being  touclied  with  compassion  and  indignation,  just  so 
long  as  the  people  endurcid  that  no  wheat  should  enter  Paris 
(:xc(jpt  on  the  notes  (jf  d'Argenson  ;  at  that  time  it  entered 
in  no  other  manner.  D'Argenson,  afterwards  Keeper  of  the 
Seals  nnder  the  Kegeiicy,  was  at  that  time  lieutenant  of 
polict!.  The  severity  of  this  restraint  was  jjuslied  to  ox- 
ticniily  on  the,  biikcirs  ;  iuid  vvhiil,  1  lieic  relati^  soon  bocamo 
prevalent  all  over  l'ran(;e.  'I'lie  inteiidants  did  what  d'Argen- 
son was  dohig  in  I'aris;  and  in  all  the  uiarketH  where  the 
wheat  was  not  sold  uL  the  price  lixod  by  thoiu,  and  hi'foro 


108  IVIEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  iv. 

the  appointed  hour  to  close  the  market,  it  was  forcibly 
removed,  and  any  dealer  whose  pity  led  him  to  sell  to  any 
one  under  that  price  was  cruelly  punished. 

Mar^chal,  the  head-surgeon  of  the  kmg,  of  whom  I  have 
more  than  once  spoken,  had  the  courage  and  the  integrity 
to  tell  all  this  to  the  king,  and  to  add  the  sinister  opinion 
conceived  of  it  by  the  people,  by  those  of  a  better  class, 
and  even  by  better  minds.  The  king  seemed  touched,  and 
was  not  displeased  with  Marechal ;  but  he  did  nothing. 

Enormous  accumulations  of  wheat  were  stored  in  certain 
places,  and  as  secretly  as  possible,  yet  no  act  was  more 
sternly  forbidden  to  private  individuals  by  the  edicts,  and 
denouncements  were  enjoined.  Parliament  at  first  met  in 
various  chambers  over  these  distresses ;  then  in  the  public 
Chamber  with  deputies  from  the  other  chambers.  A  resolu- 
tion was  passed  to  propose  to  the  king  that  counsellors  should 
be  sent  throughout  the  provinces,  at  the  cost  of  parliament,  to 
examine  the  wheat,  regulate  its  management,  and  punish 
those  who  disobeyed  the  decrees ;  adding  a  list  of  coimsellors 
who  volunteered  to  make  these  journeys  to  the  separate 
departments.  The  king,  informed  of  this  by  the  president 
of  the  parhament,  became  strangely  irritated  and  wanted  to 
send  a  sharp  rebuke  to  parliament,  commanding  it  to  meddle 
with  nothing  but  its  own  business  of  judging  suits.  The 
chancellor  dared  not  represent  to  the  king  that  what  parha- 
ment wished  to  do  was  perfectly  proper  and  within  its  prov- 
ince, but  he  dwelt  on  the  affection  and  respect  with  which 
it  had  made  the  proposal,  and  its  conviction  that  the  king 
was  master  to  accept  or  reject  the  offer.  It  was  not  without 
difficulty  that  he  managed  to  soothe  the  king  enough  to  avoid 
conveying  the  rebuke ;  but  the  king  absolutely  insisted  on 
parliament  being  informed  that  he  forbade  it  to  meddle  in 
the  matter  of  the  wheat.     This  scene  passed  in  open  council. 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,  109 

where  the  chancellor  alone  spoke ;  all  the  other  ministers 
kept  silence ;  they  apparently  knew  very  well  what  to  think 
of  the  afi'air,  and  took  care  to  say  nothing  of  a  matter  which 
concerned  the  special  ministry  of  the  chancellor.  However 
accustomed  parliament,  in  common  with  every  other  public 
body,  was  to  such  humiliations,  this  one  touched  it  keenly. 
It  obeyed,  groaning. 

The  public  was  not  less  irritated ;  there  was  not  a  person 
but  felt  that  if  the  finances  had  been  kept  clear  of  all  these 
cruel  manoeuvres  the  action  of  parliament  could  only  have 
been  agreeable  to  the  king,  and  useful  to  him  by  putting 
this  committee  between  himself  and  his  people ;  proving 
thus  that  they  intended  no  scheming  nor  any  attempt  against 
the  absolute  and  unbounded  authority  of  which  he  was  so 
vilely  jealous. 

Meantime  the  most  invariable  payments  began  to  slacken. 
Those  of  the  customs,  those  of  the  various  loan  concerns, 
the  rentes  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville,  at  all  times  so  sacred,  were 
suspended ;  the  latter  only  delayed,  but  with  the  delay  came 
curtailment,  which  harassed  nearly  all  the  families  in  Paris, 
and  many  others.  At  the  same  time  the  taxes,  being  raised, 
multiplied,  and  exacted  with  the  utmost  vigour,  completed  the 
devastation  of  France.  Prices  reached  a  point  beyond  belief, 
while  at  the  same  time  the  people  had  nothing  left  with 
which  to  buy  in  the  cheapest  market ;  and  though  the  cattle 
were  dying  for  want  of  food,  through  the  poverty  of  those 
who  owned  them  in  the  country  regions,  another  impost 
was  placed  upon  them.  ( Jreat  numbers  of  persons  who  had 
njHcviHl  tin;  jioor  (lnriii,L,f  \\w  preceding  years  were  reduced 
therriHclvos  to  a  diHiciilL  .siib.sisLence,  —  numy  of  them  being 
conipelled  to  receive  secret  nlm.s.  It  could  hardly  bo  told 
liow  many  othorH  bcggcMl  I'di-  iidinittance  In  iilmsliouses, 
oiK'c  Uk;  hIiuiik!  iiiid  dread  of   (he  pixii'.  oi'  how  many  niiiu'd 


110  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,    [chap.  iv. 

almshouses  vomited  back  their  poor  upon  the  public  bounty, 
that  is  to  say,  to  death  by  hunger,  or  how  many  worthy 
famihes  were  dying  out  in  garrets. 

Neither  can  it  be  duly  told  how  so  much  misery  roused 
zeal  and  charity,  and  how  immense  were  the  alms  bestowed. 
But,  needs  growing  greater  at  every  instant,  it  unfortunately 
happened  that  an  indiscreet  and  tyrannical  charity  bethought 
itself  of  levying  a  tax  for  the  poor.  This  was  done  with  so 
little  reflection,  in  addition  to  all  other  imposts,  that  the  in- 
crease put  a  vast  number  of  almsgiving  persons  into  strait- 
ened circumstances,  and  provoked  others  whose  voluntary 
charity  it  stopped  ;  so  that,  besides  the  cost  of  collecting  this 
ill-regulated  tax,  the  poor  were  far  less  relieved  than  before. 
But  what  has  since  proved  still  more  strange,  to  speak 
moderately,  is  that  these  taxes  for  the  benefit  of  the  poor 
(a  little  modified  iDut  perpetuated)  the  king  has  appropriated  ; 
so  that  the  finance  department  now  receives  them  publicly 
as  a  branch  of  the  kmg's  revenues,  and  even  with  the  frank- 
ness of  not  changing  their  name. 

The  same  thing  occurs  with  the  tax  that  is  laid  every  year 
for  the  maintenance  of  the  highroads ;  the  finance  depart- 
ment has  appropriated  its  proceeds  in  the  same  way,  and 
again  without  changing  its  name.  The  greater  part  of  the 
bridges  are  broken  down  throughout  the  kingdom,  and  the 
highroads  have  become  impassable.  Commerce,  which  suJffers 
from  this  immensely,  is  now  waking  up.  Lescalopier,  in- 
tendant  of  Champagne,  bethought  himself  of  mending  the 
roads  by  forced  labour,  for  which  he  did  not  even  give  bread ; 
other  regions  imitated  him,  and  for  this  he  was  made  a 
councillor  of  State.  The  monopoly  of  the  government 
agents  employed  on  these  works  enriched  those  agents ;  the 
people  died  of  hunger  and  misery  in  heaps,  until  finally  the 
thing  could  not  be  carried  on  any  longer,  and  is  now  aban- 


1709]  MEMOIES  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  Ill 

doned  —  the  roads  also.  But  the  tax  to  make  them  and 
maintain  them  existed  all  the  while  these  forced  gangs 
worked,  and  since,  and  is  still  collected  as  a  branch  of  the 
king's  revenues. 

This  manipulation  of  wheat  has  seemed  so  good  a  resource 
and  so  conformed  to  humanity,  in  the  opinion  of  M.  le 
Due  and  the  brothers  Paris  (masters  of  the  kingdom  under 
his  ministry),  that  now  as  I  write  they  and  the  controller- 
general  Orry,  the  most  ignorant  and  most  uncivilized  man 
that  ever  administered  finances,  have  grasped  the  same 
resource ;  only,  like  themselves,  more  grossly,  and  with  the 
same  result  of  a  famine  which  has  devastated  the  kingdom.^ 

But  to  return  to  the  year  1709 :  People  never  ceased  to 
wonder  what  became  of  all  the  money  of  the  kingdom. 
Nobody  could  pay  because  nobody  was  paid  himself;  the 
country  people,  exhausted  by  exactions  and  values  reduced 
to  nothing,  were  insolvent.  Commerce,  dried  up,  made  no 
return ;  good  faith  and  confidence  were  destroyed.  Thus 
the  king  had  no  resource  but  terror,  and  the  exercise 
of  his  boundless  power,  which,  unlimited  as  it  was,  often 
failed  for  want  of  knowing  on  what  to  take  hold  and  exercise 
itself.  The  king  no  longer  paid  his  troops ;  and  the  wonder 
was  all  the  more  as  to  what  became  of  the  many  millions 
that  went  into  his  coffers. 

This  was  tlio  frightful  state  of  things  when  Eouilly,  and 
soon  after  him  Torcy,  were  sent  to  Holland  to  negotiate  a 
peace.     This  picture  is  exact,  faithful,  and  not  overcharged. 

'  TliiK  pdHflapfc  was  atldcfl  hy  Saint-Simon,  liko  many  otliors,  wlu-n  in 
after  life  he  i)roparc<i  his  McinoirH  for  ynil)li(;ation.  Ttu'  M.  li'  Due  iioro 
iiuiilioncd  iH  the  son  of  M.  id  Due  (IVinco  <ic  Condi'),  who  niarriod  the 
d.iiiKhlcr  of  the  Itin^  and  Mine,  do  Montcapan.  He  was  nioinbor  of  the 
('ouncil  of  llcKcncy,  and  after  tlio  deatii  of  tlie  He^jent  became  i)riint' 
ininiHter  in  172:!  — 00  years  before  tho  outbreak  of  tlie  Freneli  Revolution, 
ilow  little  Haint-Simon  dreamed  of  tlnit,  and  yet  how  many  a  pa(;e 
tiirouKJiout  tiieHo  Mi^moirM  forewarnH  of  it.  —  Tn. 


112  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  iv. 

It  was  necessary  to  present  it  clearly,  in  order  to  explain  the 
hopeless  extremities  to  which  we  were  reduced,  the  enormity 
of  the  sacrifices  to  which  the  king  was  led  in  order  to  obtain 
a  peace,  and  the  visible  miracle  of  Him  who  sets  bounds  to 
the  sea  and  calls  to  that  which  is  not  as  to  that  which  is,  by 
which  He  saved  France  from  the  hands  of  all  Europe,  re- 
solved and  ready  to  destroy  her,  —  saved  her  with  the  greatest 
advantages,  considering  the  state  to  which  she  was  reduced 
and  the  little  hope  she  had  of  safety. 

Meantime  the  recoining  of  the  currency  and  its  increase 
to  one-third  more  than  its  intrinsic  value,  brought  profit  to 
Recoina  e  of  the  ^^^^  king  but  ruiu  to  private  persons,  and  such 
currency;  and       disordcr  uito  commercc  as  threatened  to  an- 

increase  to  more 

than  intrinsic  nillilatC    it. 

^^'"^"  Samuel  Bernard  ruined  Lyons  by  his  enor- 

mous bankruptcy,  the  torrent  of  which  produced  the  most 
terrible  effects.  Desmarets  helped  him  as  much  as  possible. 
Notes  for  money,  and  their  depreciation,  were  the  cause  of  it. 
This  celebrated  banker  had  them  out  for  twenty  millions, 
and  nearly  as  much  more  at  Lyons.  He  was  given  fourteen 
millions  in  good  assignations  ^  to  endeavour  to  pull  him 
through  his  affair,  with  what  he  could  make  out  of  his  notes. 
It  was  said  afterwards  that  he  found  means  to  make  a  great 
deal  of  his  bankruptcy ;  and  it  is  true  that  while  no  other 
private  person  of  his  kind  ever  spent  so  much,  or  left  so 
much,  or  ever  had  anything  Hke  his  credit  throughout  all 
Europe  up  to  the  time  of  his  death,  which  happened  thirty- 
five  years  later,  Lyons  and  that  part  of  Italy  which  adjoins 
it  must  be  excepted,  for  he  never  could  re-estabhsh  himself 
in  credit  there. 

^  Assignations  in  the  former  financial  system  of  France  meant  orders 
on  treasurers  to  pay  a  debt  from  certain  given  funds,  such  as  those  of  the 
salt-tax  or  the  taiUe,  etc.  Good  assignations  were  those  on  disposable 
funds,  which  could  be  paid  immediately.     (Note  by  French  editor.) 


1709J  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUC  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  113 

M.  le  Prince  [Henri-Jules,  son  of  the  great  Cond(^]  who 
for  more  than  two  years  had  not  appeared  at  Court,  died  in 
Death  of  M.ie  Paiis  soon  after  midnight  on  Easter  Sunday, 
P""'^^-  March   31    and    April    1,   in   his    sixty-sixth 

year.  He  was  a  little  man,  very  thin  and  very  slender, 
whose  face,  with  rather  small  features,  was  nevertheless 
imposing  from  the  fire  and  audacity  of  his  eyes,  while  his 
nature  was  a  compound  as  rare  as  could  well  be  met  with. 
No  man  had  more  mind,  and  of  all  sorts,  and  seldom  as  much 
knowledge  of  every  kind,  for  the  most  part  fundamental, 
even  to  arts  and  mechanics,  with  an  exquisite  taste  that  was 
universal.  Never  a  more  frank  and  natural  courage,  or  a 
greater  desire  to  do  and  be ;  and  when  he  wished  to  please, 
no  one  with  such  discernment,  grace,  charm,  nobleness,  or 
so  much  hidden  art  workmg  as  if  spontaneously.  Neither 
was  any  one  more  accomplished  in  invention,  execution,  in- 
dustry, in  the  pleasures  of  life,  in  the  magnificence  of  fetes, 
by  which  he  often  astonished  and  dehghted  in  every  imagin- 
able way ;  nor  yet  in  so  many  useless  talents,  so  much  unused 
genius,  so  lively  and  active  an  imagination,  solely  employed 
to  be  his  own  curse  and  the  scourge  of  others. 

He  had  his  entrees  to  the  king,  and  those  not  the  grand 
ones,  solely  for  the  survivance  of  his  office  and  government  to 
his  son  in  marrying  him  to  the  king's  bastard  daughter;  so 
that  while  his  son  and  his  dau;^liter  (married  to  the  Due  du 
Maine)  were  at  the  Icing's  supper,  and  with  the  latter  in  liis 
caljinet  with  the  other  bastards  and  the  royal  family,  M.  le 
Prince,  prince  of  the  blood,  was  mostly  asleep  on  a  stool  near 
the  door,  as  I  have  seiiii  him  many  and  many  a  time,  waiting 
with  tlie  ()th(!r  (M)nrti(Ms  till  the  king  came  in  to  undrnss. 
The  DuchesHe  du  Maine  ludd  liim  in  respc(!t.  He  courted 
M.  du  Maine,  who  paid  liim  lilLlo  attention  and  despised 
him.     Mme,  lu  DuchesHC  put  him  in  dunpuir  botwoon  courtier 

VOL.  II.  —  B 


114  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  iv. 

and  father;  but  the  courtier  canied  the  day  usually.  He 
felt  the  shame  of  the  double  marriage  of  his  children  with 
those  of  the  king,  but  he  had  drawn  their  advantages ; 
though  they  never  brought  him  nearer  to  the  king,  or  gave 
him  any  pleasurable  satisfactions. 

Mme.  la  Princesse  was  his  continual  victim.  She  was 
equally  ugly,  virtuous,  and  silly  ;  but  all  this  did  not  prevent 
'M.  le  Prince  from  being  madly  jealous  of  her  to  the  end  of 
his  life.  Her  piety  and  unwearying  attention  to  him,  her 
gentleness,  her  novice-like  submission,  did  not  protect  her 
from  frequent  insults  and  from  kicks  and  blows,  which  were 
not  altogether  rare.  She  was  not  her  own  mistress  in  the 
slightest  thing  ;  she  dared  not  propose  or  ask  anything.  He 
would  make  her  start  the  instant  a  fancy  took  him  to  go 
from  one  place  to  another.  Often  when  seated  in  the  car- 
riage he  would  oblige  her  to  get  out  again ;  or  go  to  the  end 
of  the  street  and  then  return  ;  and  do  the  same  again  the 
next  day.  Once  this  lasted  for  fifteen  consecutive  days  at 
Fontainebleau.  At  other  times  he  would  send  after  her  at 
church,  and  make  her  leave  high  mass,  sometimes  at  the 
moment  when  she  was  about  to  communicate ;  and  she  had 
to  return  instantly  and  put  off  her  communion  to  another 
day.  It  was  not  that  he  wanted  her,  or  that  she  ever  dared 
to  do  anything  of  her  own  will  or  without  his  permission, 
but  his  fancies  were  continual.  He  himself  was  just  as 
uncertain.  Every  day  four  dinners  were  made  ready  for 
him,  —  one  at  Paris,  one  at  £couen,  one  at  ChantiUy,  and 
one  wherever  the  Court  might  be.  However,  the  expense 
was  not  very  great :  the  dinner  was  only  soup,  half  a  chicken 
on  a  crouton  of  bread,  the  other  half  serving  for  the  next 
day. 

ChantiUy  was  his  delight.     He  walked  about  there,  fol- 
lowed by  several  secretaries  with  inkstands  and  paper,  who 


1709]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE  SAINT-SIMON.  115 

wrote  down  whatever  came  into  his  head  for  its  improvement 
and  embellishment.  He  spent  enormous  sums  upon  the 
place,  and  yet  they  were  trifles  compared  to  the  treasure  his 
o-randson  has  since  buried  there,  and  the  marvels  he  has 
made.  M.  le  Prince  amused  himself  a  good  deal  with  works 
of  science  and  learning ;  he  read  them  with  pleasure,  and 
could  judge  them  with  taste,  discernment,  and  profundity. 
He  also  entertained  himself  wdth  matters  of  art,  and  with 
mechanics,  about  which  he  knew  a  great  deal. 

What  is  very  incomprehensible  is  that,  with  so  much 
mind,  activity,  penetration,  courage,  and  the  desire  to  do  and 
be  something,  so  great  a  warrior  as  his  father  could  never 
make  him  understand  the  first  principles  of  the  art  of  war. 
He  made  it  his  study  and  effort  for  a  long  time  to  do  so ; 
the  son  responded  on  his  side  without  ever  being  able  to 
acquire  the  slightest  aptitude  in  anything  relating  to  the 
art,  about  which  his  father  concealed  nothing  from  him,  ex- 
plaining all  things  at  the  head  of  his  army.  He  always 
took  him  with  him  ;  tried  to  put  him  in  command,  near 
himself  of  course,  in  order  to  counsel  him.  This  manner  of 
instruction  succeeded  no  better  than  the  others.  Finally,  he 
despaired  of  his  sou,  gifted  though  he  was  with  such  great 
talents,  and  ceased  to  work  upon  him,  with  what  grief  may 
easily  be  imagined.  He  knew  him,  and  knew  him  better 
and  better ;  but  v/isdom  restrained  him  always,  and  the  son 
lived  ever  in  deep  respect  of  the  glory  which  environed  the 
great  Condd. 

During  the  last  fifteen  or  twenty  years  of  his  life  there 
was  said  to  be  something  more  about  him  than  mere  excite- 
ment and  vivacity;  peoyde  thought  they  rciniirkod  n])errations, 
whicli  wore,  not,  couniicd  Id  his  own  home.  I(  wa.s  vvhispcri'd 
thonj  w(!r(».  tinuiH  when  he  thouglit  liiui.Hcir  n  (h)g,  or  some 
other   uiiimul,   whoso   actions    ho    iiuiUitud.      I'orsoua   very 


116  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  iv. 

worthy  of  belief  have  assured  me  that  they  have  seen  him 
at  the  king's  coucher  while  the  king  said  his  prayers,  he 
being  close  behind  the  chair,  throw  his  head  up  in  the  air 
suddenly  several  times  and  open  his  mouth  wide  as  if  to 
bark,  but  without  making  a  noise.  It  is  certain  that  there 
were  considerable  periods  of  time  when  no  one  saw  him,  not 
even  his  most  familiar  servants,  except  an  old  valet  who  had 
acquired  an  empire  over  him  and  used  it. 

Fever  and  gout  attacked  him  at  intervals ;  and  he  made 
himself  worse  by  too  strict  a  regimen,  by  a  sohtude  in  which 
he  would  see  no  one,  often  not  even  his  nearest  family,  and 
by  anxiety  and  precautions  which  sent  him  at  times  into  fits 
of  fury. 

Finot,  his  doctor,  who  was  at  all  times  ours,  and  one  of  our 
•friends,  did  not  know  what  to  do  with  him.  What  embar- 
rassed him  most,  as  he  related  to  us  more  than  once,  was  a 
whim  that  he  would  not  take  food,  said  he  was  dead,  and 
that  dead  men  did  not  eat.  It  was  necessary  to  make  him 
in  some  way  take  food,  or  he  would  have  died  veritably.  But 
there  was  no  persuading  him  that  he  lived,  and  consequently 
that  he  must  eat.  At  last,  Finot,  and  another  doctor  whom 
he  usually  took  with  him,  bethought  them  of  agreeing  that 
he  was  dead,  but  declaring  to  him  that  dead  men  ate.  They 
offered  to  produce  some,  and  did  actually  take  to  him 
certain  trustworthy  persons,  whom  he  did  not  know,  who 
enacted  dead  men  as  well  as  he,  but  ate.  This  sight  con- 
vinced him ;  but  stiU  he  would  not  eat  except  with  the 
dead  men  and  Finot.  This  being  arranged,  he  ate  very 
well ;  but  the  notion  lasted  a  long  time,  to  Finot's  despair ; 
who,  however,  nearly  died  of  laughing  in  telling  us  what 
took  place,  and  the  topics  of  the  other  world  which  were 
discussed  at  these  repasts.  The  prince  lived  a  long  time 
after  this. 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  117 

The  death  of  the  Prince  de  Conti  seemed  to  the  Due  de 
VendSme  an  advantage  all  the  greater  because  it  delivered 
Overthrow  of  ^^^  o^  ^  TiYal  SO  embariassing  by  superiority 
M.  deVendome.  q^  birth  at  the  vcry  moment  when  he  was 
about  to  take  his  place  at  the  head  of  an  army,  and  also  be- 
cause it  relieved  him  of  a  counterweight  beside  Monseigneur. 
We  have  seen  that  on  his  return  from  Flanders  Vendome 
had  had  an  audience  with  the  king,  a  single  one  which  did 
not  last  long.  In  it  he  did  not  forget  Puys^gur,  of  whom 
he  made  bitter  complaint  and  said  all  he  wished  that  was 
bad  of  him,  with  his  usual  assumption  of  being  believed 
on  his  mere  word.  Puysdgur,  of  whom  I  have  had  occa- 
sion to  speak  more  than  once,  was  well  known  to  the  king, 
in  a  sort  of  privileged  relation  acquired  by  his  constant 
reports  about  the  king's  own  regiment  of  infantry,  of  which 
the  latter  thought  himself  the  real  colonel,  and  in  which 
Puysdgur  had  passed  the  greater  part  of  his  life  as  major 
and  lieutenant-colonel  with  the  king's  entire  confidence. 

Puysdgur,  accustomed  to  frequent  private  interviews 
with  the  king,  and  fully  aware  that  after  so  thorny  a 
campaign  he  should  be  closely  questioned  if  he  arrived  at 
Court  while  matters  were  hot,  prudently  lay-to  for  six 
weeks  or  two  months  at  his  place  in  the  Soissonois  before 
returning  to  Paris  and  Versailles.  Curiosity  having  cooled, 
and  being  informed,  moreover,  of  the  statements  made 
against  bim  l)y  the  Due  do  Vendome,  he  thought  it  better 
not  to  give  cause  by  a  longer  stay  for  the  suspicion  that 
he  feared  to  show  himself.     Consequently,  he  arrived. 

A  few  (lays  later,  tlie  king,  who  always  enjoyed  him  aiul 
was  gri(',v(!(l  l)y  wliiit  M.  de  Vendnme  had  said  of  him, 
took  him  into  his  cabinet  and  there,  ictc-d-tHc,  askotl  him, 
kindly,  IJki  truth  about  the  nuiny  foolish  things  lu>  had 
heard  oi'    him,      Puysi^.gur   then  enlighUiued  hiui  so    dearly 


118  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  iv. 

that  the  king,  in  his  surprise,  admitted  it  was  Vendome 
who  had  told  him.  At  that  name,  Puys^giir,  feeling 
irritated,  seized  his  moment.  He  told  the  king  in  the  first 
place  what  had  kept  him  so  long  from  appearing,  and  then 
he  detailed,  both  naively  and  courageously,  the  faults,  the 
unfitness,  the  obstinacy,  the  insolence  of  M.  de  Vendome, 
with  a  precision  and  accuracy  which  made  the  king  very 
attentive  and  full  of  questions  asking  for  more  and  still 
more  information.  Puys^gur,  seeing  his  opportunity  and 
the  king  silent  and  yet  convinced,  gave  it  all,  pushed  his 
point,  and  told  him  that  since  Vendome  spared  him  so 
little  after  all  the  caution  and  care  he  had  taken  for  him, 
he  thought  it  permissible,  and  even  his  duty  for  the  good 
of  the  service,  to  make  known  once  for  all  what  he  was. 
Thereupon  he  depicted  the  personal  conduct  of  the  Due 
de  Vendome,  his  ordinary  life  in  the  army,  the  incapacity 
of  his  body,  the  unsoundness  of  his  judgment,  the  prej- 
udices of  his  mind,  the  falseness  and  the  dangers  of  his 
military  maxims,  the  ignorance  of  his  whole  conduct  in  a 
war.  After  which  reverting  to  his  campaigns  in  Italy,  and 
to  his  last  two  in  Flanders,  he  unmasked  him  wholly,  put 
the  king's  eye  and  finger  on  all  his  blunders,  and  proved  to 
him  manifestly  that  it  was  only  by  a  series  of  miracles 
that  such  a  general  had  not  lost  France  a  hundred  times. 

The  conversation  lasted  more  than  two  hours.  The 
king,  convinced  of  all,  and  long  before  persuaded  by  experi- 
ence not  only  of  Puys^gur's  sagacity,  but  also  of  his  integrity, 
his  fidehty,  and  his  strict  truthfulness,  opened  his  eyes  aU 
at  once  on  the  man  whose  true  character  so  much  art  had 
hitherto  concealed  while  showing  him  as  a  hero  and  the 
tutelary  genius  of  France.  He  was  mortified  and  ashamed 
at  his  credulity,  and  from  that  moment  Vendome  was  irre- 
trievably lost  in  his  mind,  and  excluded  forever  from  the 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  119 

command  of  the  armies,  —  an  exclusion  which  was  not  long 
in  becoming  known. 

Puys^gur,  naturally  humble,  gentle,  and  modest,  but 
truthful  and  persistent  in  his  conduct,  and  who  had 
moreover  no  terms  to  keep  with  M.  de  Vendome  after  the 
statements  the  latter  had  made  about  him  in  public  and 
all  he  had  told  the  king,  feeling  well  content  with  the 
success  he  had  obtained  throughout  the  conversation,  at 
once  returned  blow  for  blow  in  the  gallery,  and  virtuously 
braved  Vendome  and  his  whole  cabal,  of  which  he  was 
well  aware. 

It  trembled  with  rage ;  Vendome  still  more.  They  an- 
swered by  spreading  miserable  arguments  which  impressed 
no  one.  The  wisest  heads  felt  that  from  henceforth  they 
were  set  aside.  The  opposite  and  until  then  oppressed  party 
embraced  Puys^gur;  and  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  the  Du- 
chesse  de  Bourgogne,  and  even  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers 
made  the  most  with  the  king  of  what  he  had  learned  at  last 
from  him  and  from  him  only. 

The  end  came  promptly.  VendOme,  excluded  from  serv- 
ing, sold  his  equipage  of  war  and  retired  to  Anet,  where  the 
grass  was  beginning  to  grow. 


V. 


The  king  soon  after  did  a  very  unusual  thing,  which  made 

people  talk  a  great  deal     He  received  two  generals,  the  Mard- 

chals  de  Boufflers  and  de  Villars  together,  in 

Council  of  war 

before  the  king ;  preseuce  of  CliamiUart.  This  was  on  the 
very  stormy.  aftemoou  of  Friday,  May  7,  at  Marly.  On 
leaving,  Villars  went  to  Paris,  with  orders  to  return  to  Marly 
for  the  following  Sunday  early.  He  returned  the  next  day, 
Saturday,  in  the  evening. 

If  people  had  been  surprised  by  this  very  small  council 
of  war,  they  were  much  more  so  on  the  following  day,  when 
the  king,  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  at  Court,  held  a  real 
council  of  war.  He  had  notified  the  Due  de  Bourgogne, 
adding,  rather  satiiically,  "  unless  you  prefer  to  go  to 
vespers."  At  this  council  were  Monseigneur,  the  Due  de 
Bourgogne,  the  Mardchals  de  Bouffiers,  de  Villars,  and 
d'Harcourt,  MM.  Chamillart  and  Desmarets,  the  first  for  the 
troops,  the  other  for  the  money.  The  operations  of  the 
campaign,  the  state  of  the  frontiers  and  of  the  troops  were 
the  subjects  treated.  The  marshals,  somewhat  emancipated 
from  the  tutelage  of  the  ministers,  harassed  them,  the  one 
being  enfeebled,  and  the  other  new  and  not  yet  well  anchored 
in  his  place.  All  three  fell  upon  Chamillart,  Villars  with 
more  reserve  than  the  two  others.  The  king  did  not  take 
his  part,  but  left  him  to  be  maltreated  by  Boufflers  and 
Harcourt,  who  kept  the  ball  going  between  them  untU 
Chamillart,  who,  mild  and  gentle  though  he  was,  was  not 
accustomed  to  be  goaded,  grew  so  irritated  and  angry  that 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  121 

his  voice  was  heard  in  the  little  salon  adjoining  the  king's 
chamber  where  the  scene  occurred.  The  subject  was  the 
insufficient  provision  for  the  fortresses,  and  the  miserable 
condition  of  the  troops,  about  which  Desmarets  also  wanted 
to  say  his  word,  but  the  king  stopped  him  at  once. 

The  body-guard  had  not  been  paid  for  a  very  long  time. 
Boufflers,  captain  of  the  guards  in  quarters,  had  spoken  to  the 
king  about  it.  His  remarks  were  ill-received.  But  he  per- 
sisted, and  the  king  told  him  he  was  ill-informed,  and  that 
they  were  paid.  This  nettled  Boufflers,  who  supplied  himself 
with  a  correct  pay-roll  showing  what  was  due  to  each  man, 
and  put  it  in  his  pocket  when  he  came  to  the  meeting. 
When  the  council  rose,  he  stopped  the  company,  entreated 
the  king  to  be  convinced  that  he  was  well-informed  when 
he  spoke  to  him  of  certain  matters,  and,  unfolding  the  pay- 
roll, he  showed  him  at  a  glance  and  very  clearly,  the  poverty 
of  the  body-guard  and  the  exact  truth  of  what  he  had  said. 
The  king,  who  had  never  supposed  it  to  be  so,  drew  himself 
up  and  casting  a  stern  look  at  Desmarets  asked  him  what 
that  meant,  and  whether  he  had  not  assured  him  that  his 
guards  were  paid.  Desmarets  was  taken  short,  and  in  much 
confusion  seized  the  roll  and  muttered  something  between 
his  teeth;  on  which  Boufflers,  getting  warm,  spoke  to  him 
sharply.  Desmarets  let  the  wave  break  in  silence  ;  then  he 
assured  the  king  that  he  thouglit  the  guards  had  been  paid, 
})ut  saw  he  was  mistaken  ;  wliereupon  Boufflers,  returning  to 
tlic  charge,  told  him  lie  ought  to  be  sure  of  liis  facts  before 
making  such  statementH,  and  begged  tlie  king  to  believe 
that  he  never  hinis(!lf  sj)()ko  witliout  being  properly  informed. 
The  otli(;r  two  niarslmls  kept  a  dciid  silciK'c,  hut,  (.'baniillart 
who,  nj)  to  that  nioiiKMit,  had  been  huighiiig  in  his  beard, 
could  not  Hifrain  from  sticking  a  diirL  into  the  controlhsr 
himscll'.      nonlllerH  having  coniu  to  the  end  of  his  objnrgii- 


122  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  v. 

tion,  Chamillart  added  that  he  entreated  the  king  to  believe 
that  that  was  the  way  a  great  many  things  were  going  on, 
that  not  a  single  regiment  was  paid,  and  proofs  could  be 
sho\\Ti  at  any  moment.  This  was  said  with  great  emotion. 
The  king,  fatigued  with  the  conclusion  of  a  council  so  bitter 
and  so  little  expected,  interrupted  Chamillart  by  telling 
Desmarets  firmly  to  be  more  careful  of  what  he  said,  and  to 
see  to  things  in  a  better  manner,  and  then  dismissed  them 
alL 

Various  disturbances  had  taken  place  in  the  markets  of 

Paris,  which  required  the  retention  of  more  companies  from 

the  regiments  of  the  French  and  Suisse  guards 

Small  riots  in  *^  ° 

Paris;  and  than  usual.     D'Argeusou,  lieutenant  of  police, 

had  his  hands  full  at  Saint-Eoch,  where  there 
occurred  a  riot  of  the  populace,  swelled  to  a  large  size  and 
very  insolent,  on  the  occasion  of  a  poor  man  falling  down 
and  being  trodden  under  foot.  M.  de  La  Rochefoucauld, 
now  living  in  retirement  at  Chenil,  received  an  atrocious 
anonymous  letter  agaiast  the  king,  saying  in  so  many  words 
that  Ravaillacs  could  stiU  be  found,  and  adding  to  that  threat 
a  eulogy  on  Brutus.  Thereupon  the  duke  rushed  to  Marly 
and,  much  excited,  sent  word  to  the  king  while  a  council 
was  sitting  that  he  had  something  important  to  say  to  him. 
This  sudden  apparition  of  a  blind  recluse  and  his  eagerness 
to  speak  to  the  king  made  the  courtiers  wonder.  The  council 
over,  the  king  sent  for  M.  de  La  Eochefoucauld,  who  in  a 
very  emphatic  way  gave  him  the  letter  and  told  him  the 
tale  of  it.  He  was  very  ill-received.  As  everything,  sooner 
or  later,  is  kno^vn  at  Courts,  it  was  soon  learned  what  M.  de 
La  Rochefoucauld  had  come  for,  and  also  that  the  Dues  de 
Bouillon  and  de  Beauvilliers  had  each  received  letters  of  the 
same  kind,  had  taken  them  to  the  king  and  been  better 
received,  because   they  had   done   the   thing   more   simply. 


1709]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  123 

Nevertheless  the  king  was  very  much  troubled  for  several 
days;  but  after  due  reflection  he  concluded  that  persons 
who  threatened  and  warned  were  less  likely  to  commit  a 
crime  than  to  endeavour  to  cause  uneasiness. 

What  annoyed  the  king  most  was  the  deluge  of  in- 
temperate and  bold  placards  against  his  person,  his  con- 
duct, his  government,  which  for  some  time  past  had  been 
affixed  to  the  doors  of  Paris,  to  the  churches,  the  pubhc 
squares  and  above  all  to  his  statues,  which  latter  were  in- 
sulted by  night  in  many  ways,  the  marks  of  which  were 
found  the  next  morning,  and  the  inscriptions  defaced.  There 
were  also  great  numbers  of  verses  and  squibs,  in  which  no 
one  was  spared.  This  was  the  state  of  things  when,  on  the 
16th  of  May,  they  made  the  procession  of  Sainte-Genevieve, 
which  is  never  done  except  in  some  great  emergency,  and 
then  by  virtue  of  the  king's  command,  the  decree  of  parlia- 
ment, and  the  mandate  of  the  Archbishop  of  Paris  and  the 
Abb(^  of  Sainte-Genevifeve.  Some  persons  hoped  for  a  real 
succour  from  this  function ;  others  to  amuse  a  people  who 
were  dying  of  hunger. 

The  armies,  and  particularly  that  of  Flanders,  lacked 
everything.  Every  effort  was  made  to  send  money  to  the 
^^  ,.  ,      latter  during  the  early  part  of  June,  and  to 

The  king,  royal  ci  J     r  > 

family,  and  buy  whcat  in  Brctagnc  and  cart  it  to  Picardie. 

courtiers  send  i       •         i    -i  i 

their  plate  to  the  Moncy  and  bread  came  only  ni  chiblets  ;  and 
'^'"*'  often  that  army  wiis  reduced  to  lind  its  own 

resources  during  long  intervals,  with  a  frontier  greatly  driven 
in.  The  arniies  of  Dauphind  and  Catalonia  were  much 
better  off  for  subsiHtonco,  and  the  troops  in  a  better  condition. 
I  bav(!  already  said  that  I  should  give  no  account  of  tin*  lu'- 
goliiitions  for  peace,  nor  of  tb(!  journey  of  Ivouilly  and  Torcy 
tor  tliat  ])urpoHe.  While  awaiting  results,  it  was  thought 
well  to  revive  the  zeal  of  all  classes  in  the  kingdom  by  in- 


124  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  v. 

forming  them  of  the  enormous  extortions,  rather  than  pro- 
posals, of  the  enemy,  in  a  printed  letter  from  the  king 
addressed  to  the  governors  of  all  the  provinces,  with  orders 
to  spread  the  facts  about  and  make  known  to  what  lengths 
the  king  had  gone  to  obtain  a  peace,  and  how  impossible  it 
was  to  make  one.  The  success  of  this  letter  was  such  as 
had  been  hoped  for.  The  reply  was  a  cry  of  indignation  and 
vengeance,  and  proposals  to  sacrifice  everything  to  continue 
the  war,  with  other  such  extreme  offers  to  prove  the  zeal 
of  all. 

The  new  wife  of  the  Due  de  Grammont,^  lacking  respect 
and  consideration  of  every  kind,  was  in  despair  at  finding 
herself  in  Paris  excluded  from  the  rank  and  all  the  honours 
of  her  marriage.  She  thought  she  saw  in  the  present  dis- 
tress and  disturbance  the  means  of  obtaining  that  which  was 
now  denied  her  and  which  she  desired  so  passionately. 
She  proposed  to  her  husband  to  offer  to  the  king  his  silver 
plate,  hoping  that  this  example  would  be  followed,  and  that 
she  should  have  the  credit  of  the  invention  and  the  reward 
of  having  procured  a  succour  so  rapid,  so  easy,  and  so  consid- 
erable. Unluckily  for  her,  the  Due  de  Grammont  spoke  to 
his  son-in-law,  the  Mar^chal  de  Boufflers,  about  this  scheme 
just  as  he  was  going  to  execute  it.  The  marechal  thought  it 
admirable,  and  was  so  delighted  with  it  that  he  went  in- 
stantly and  offered  his  own,  of  which  he  had  a  great  quantity 
and  very  beautiful,  and  he  talked  so  much  about  it,  exhort- 
ing others  to  do  their  part,  that  he  obtained  the  credit  of 
the  invention,  and  not  the  old  Grammont  nor  even  her 
husband,  who  were  thus  their  own  dupes,  which  infuriated 
her.  Boufiiers  had  spoken  to  Chamillart,  his  old  friend  at 
billiards,  and  asked  him  to  speak  to  the  king.     The  offer 

1  The  Due  (not  the  Comte)  de  Grammont  had  married  in  1704  an  old 
woman  of  bad  character. 


1700]  MEMOIRS   OF   THE   DUC   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  125 

got  into  the  minister's  head  and  through  him  into  that  of  the 
king,  who  sent  for  Boufflers.  He  and  his  father-in-law  were 
much  thanked. 

This  talk  about  plate  made  a  fine  rumpus  at  Court.  No 
one  dared  not  to  offer  his  ;  and  everybody  regretted  doing 
so.  Some  said  they  were  keeping  theirs  as  a  last  resource 
of  which  they  did  not  like  to  deprive  themselves ;  others 
that  they  feared  the  uncleanliness  of  pewter  and  earthen- 
ware ;  the  more  abject  ones  were  afflicted  at  only  imitating 
thanklessly  those  who  would  get  all  the  credit  of  the  inven- 
tion. The  next  day  the  king  spoke  of  the  matter  at  the 
council  of  finances,  and  showed  a  strong  inclination  to  re- 
ceive everybody's  plate. 

This  expedient  had  formerly  been  proposed  and  rejected 
by  Pontchartrain  while  he  was  controller-general,  and  now 
as  chancellor  he  was  not  more  favourable  to  it.  In  fact  he 
spoke  strongly  against  it,  represented  the  smallness  of  the 
profit  compared  with  the  effort,  so  considerable  for  each 
individual,  —  a  profit  brief,  not  very  useful,  and  which,  soon 
over,  would  give  no  permanent  relief ;  also  the  shame  of  the 
tiling  in  itself;  the  fantastic  appearance  of  the  Court  and 
the  nobles  eating  off  earthenware,  while  private  persons  in 
Paris  and  the  provinces  kept  their  silver,  if  allowed  to  do  so ; 
and  if  not,  general  despair  and  resort  to  hiding  it ;  the  dis- 
credit to  the  finances,  which,  this  resource  soon  exhausted, 
would  secni  to  liave  no  other;  and  finally  the  noise  it  would 
make  in  foreign  countries,  the  contempt,  the  boldness,  the 
Iiopes  the  cneuiy  would  conceive ;  the  recollection  of  the 
jests  they  made  wli(;n,  during  the  war  of  1688,  the  precious 
objects  of  massive  silver  adorning  the  gallery  nud  the  great 
and  little  apartmouts  of  VcrsailloH,  eviui  to  the  silver  throne, 
were  sciiit,  t^o  t>he.  astonishinent  of  foreigners,  to  the  Mint; 
the  little  that  came  of  thiit;  and  the  inostimablo  loss  of  those 


126  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUC   DE   SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  v. 

admirable  pieces  of  handicraft,  more  precious  than  the  metal 
itself,  which  luxury  had  since  introduced  into  the  making 
of  plate,  which  would  thus  be  a  pure  loss  to  every  one. 

Notwithstanding    these    sound   and    evident   reasons   the 

king  persisted   in   wishing,   not   to  force   any  one,   but   to 

receive   as   a   free-will    offering     the   plate    that   might   be 

offered.     This  was  given  out  verbally ;   and  two  ways  were 

indicated  by  which  to  play  the   good  citizen:  Launay,  the 

king's   goldsmith,    and  the  Mint.      Those   who   gave   their 

plate   outright   were   to   send   it    to   Launay,   who   kept   a 

register  of   names  and  the  number  of   ounces  he   received. 

The  king  saw  this  list  punctually,  at  least  for  the  first  few 

days,  and   promised  the  donors  to   return  the  same  weight 

whenever  his  affairs  permitted  (a  promise  in  which  no  one 

believed   or   hoped),  and  to  release  them  from  stamp-duty 

(a  new   impost)  on    the  plate   they  might   order   hereafter. 

Those  who  wished  to  be  secure  of  a  payment  sent  theirs  to 

the   Mint.     It    was   weighed   on    arrival,   the   names   were 

inscribed,   the   ounces   and   dates,   according   to  which  the 

owners  were  to  be  paid  whenever  there  was  money  enough 

to  do  so.     Many  were  not  sorry  to  sell  their  silver  in  this 

way  without  mortification,  and  so  secure  the  value  of  it  in 

the  great  dearth  of  money.     But  the  damage  was  irreparable 

in   the  loss  of   admirable  mouldings,   chasings,   engravings, 

reliefs,   and  ornaments  of    all    kinds,   with   which   luxury 

adorned  the  plate  of  wealthy  persons  of  taste  and  breeding. 

The  reckoning  made,  not  more  than  one  hundred  names 

appeared   on  Launay's  list,  and   the   total  product  in   gifts 

and  conversions  amounted  to  not  over  three  millions.     The 

Court  and  Paris   and    some  of   the   big-wigs   of   the   town 

did  not  dare  to  avoid  it,  and  some  few  others  who  thought 

they  were  giving  a  relief  followed  the  rest ;  but  of  these 

there  were  few  in  Paris,  and  scarcely  any  in  the  provinces. 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  BE   SAINT-SIMON.  127 

I  acknowledge  that  I  was  in  the  rear-guard,  and,  being 
very  weary  of  taxes,  did  not  subject  myself  to  a  voluntary 
one.  When  I  found  myself  almost  the  only  man  of  my 
class  who  was  eating  off  silver,  I  sent  a  thousand  pistoles' 
worth  to  the  Mint,  and  locked  up  the  rest.  I  had  a  little 
belonging  to  my  father  which  was  not  wrought,  so  that  I 
regretted  it  less  than  I  did  the  inconvenience  and  unclean- 
liness.  As  for  M.  de  Lauzun,  who  had  a  quantity  of  plate 
that  was  very  beautiful,  his  vexation  was  great  and  carried 
the  day  against  his  courtiership.  The  Due  de  Villeroy 
asked  him  if  he  had  sent  it ;  I  was  present,  and  so  was  the 
Due  de  La  Eocheguyon.  "  Not  yet,"  he  answered  in  his  low 
and  gentle  tones ;  "  I  don't  know  whom  to  ask  to  do  me  the 
favour  to  take  it ;  and  besides,  how  do  I  know  it  won't  go  up 
the  Duchesse  de  Grammont's  petticoat  ? "  We  all  laughed 
as  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  left  us. 

All  the  grandest  and  most  considerable  people  about  the 
Court  put  themselves  on  porcelain  within  a  week;  the 
china  shops  were  emptied  ;  the  trade  went  on  like  wildfire, 
but  the  middling  class  still  used  their  silver.  The  king 
talked  of  putting  himself  on  porcelain ;  he  sent  his  gold 
plate  to  the  Mint,  and  th€  Due  d'Orldans  sent  the  little  he 
possessed.  The  king  and  the  royal  family  used  silver-gilt 
or  silver;  the  princes  of  the  blood,  porcelain.  But  the 
donors  did  not  long  enjoy  the  hope  of  pleasing.  At  the 
end  of  three  months  the  king  felt  the  futility  of  this  fine 
resource  and  owned  he  regretted  having  consented  to  it. 
It  was  thus  that  things  went  on  in  Court  and  State. 

Inundations  of  tlic,  Loire  wliich  took  place  at  iho.  saMu> 
time,  destroying  tJie  cnihaiikinciits  and  causing  much  dis- 
aster, did  not  restore  goud-humour  to  the  (Jourt  nor  to 
private  persons,  for  the  lossea  were  great  and  ruined  nuiny 
l»y  destroying  iiil.crnul  ruinuicice. 


128  MEMOIRS  OF   THE   DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  v. 

It  was  now  that  tlie  last  signs  of  Chamillart's  approach- 
ing downfall  became  manifest.  The  king,  abeady  used  to 
Dismissal  of  heox  from  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  the  generals 
chamiiiart.  gf  ^iis  aimics,  and  other  channels,  obscure  but 

powerful,  a  vast  deal  of  harm  of  his  minister,  was  shaken 
in  mind,  though  his  heart  held  firm.  He  regarded  him  as 
his  own  choice,  his  own  work  in  all  his  employments  up  to 
the  great  position  in  which  he  had  placed  him,  and  in  that 
position  [minister  of  war]  his  disciple.  Not  one  of  his 
ministers  had  ever  held  the  reias  so  slack  for  him,  and 
ever  since  full  power  had  been  given  to  Chamiiiart  the 
king  had  never  been  made  to  feel  the  yoke.  It  was  much 
gained,  therefore,  that  so  many  concerted  and  redoubled 
blows  had  shaken  his  reason ;  but  still,  what  great  obstacles 
remained  to  be  overcome ! 

Things  were  in  this  state  when  Chamiiiart  went  to 
Meudon  to  render  Monseigneur  an  account  of  the  condition 
of  the  frontier  and  of  the  army  in  Flanders.  Monseigneur, 
who  had  lately  spoken  against  him  to  the  king  with  a  vigour 
hitherto  unknown  to  his  indolence,  and  which  came  of  the 
instigations  of  Mile.  Choin,  acting  by  agreement  with  Mme. 
de  Maintenon,  took  this  opportunity  to  reproach  Chamiiiart 
with  all  the  deficiencies  that  were  due  to  him ;  and 
even  went  so  far  as  to  tell  him  that  his  La  Cour  [in- 
tendant  of  finances  under  Chamiiiart]  would  do  much 
better  to  furnish  provisions  to  the  army,  which  was  his 
duty,  than  to  build  for  himself  such  fine  houses.  After 
which  he  left  the  new  building,  in  which  the  conversation 
had  taken  place  tHe-d-tete,  and  went  off  to  boast  to  Mile. 
Choin  of  what  he  had  said.  She  applauded  his  harsh 
remarks  and  urged  him  not  to  delay  in  bringing  the  king 
to  give  a  deathblow  to  the  minister. 

Chance  prepared  the  way.     On  a  Tuesday,  June  4,  in  the 


1709]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  129 

gallery  of  Versailles,  while  the  Court  were  waiting  for  the 
king  to  go  to  mass,  the  papal  nuncio  happened  to  complain 
bitterly  to  the  Mar^chals  Tess^  and  Boufflers  of  the  difficulty 
he  had  found  in  obtaining  permission  to  raise  levies  and 
purchase  arms  for  the  pope  in  Avignon ;  adding  that  he 
never  could  have  done  so  had  he  not  bethought  himself  of 
presenting  a  thousand  pistoles  to  Chamillart's  wife,  which 
payment  had  operated  promptly.  He  spoke  to  two  enemies 
of  Chamillart,  and  was  doubtless  aware  that  he  did  so. 
Two  hours  later,  as  Tess^  was  entering  the  king's  cabinet  for 
his  audience,  Boufflers,  who  saw  the  king  in  the  distance 
through  the  opening  of  the  door,  entered  a  few  steps  after 
Tessd,  and  taking  him  by  the  arm  said,  in  a  tone  loud 
enough  for  the  king  to  hear :  "  At  any  rate,  monsieur,  you 
owe  the  king  the  truth.  Tell  him  all,  and  do  not  keep 
him  in  ignorance  of  anything."  This  he  repeated  in  a 
still  louder  voice,  and  then  retired,  leaving  to  the  king  a 
subject  of  great  curiosity,  and  to  Tessd  the  necessity  of 
satisfying  him. 

On  the  following  Sunday,  June  9,  the  king,  on  entering 
the  council  of  State,  called  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers,  took 
him  aside,  and  told  him  to  go  after  dinner  to  Chamillart  and 
say  from  him  that  he  was  obliged,  on  account  of  public 
affairs,  to  ask  for  his  resignation  of  his  office,  and  also  that 
of  its  survival  to  his  son ;  that  he  nevertheless  wished  him 
to  remain  assured  of  his  friendship,  his  esteem,  and  tlie 
satisfaction  he  had  had  in  his  services ;  and  to  give  liim 
proofs  of  all  this,  he  should  continue  his  salary  as  minister, 
(which  was  twenty  thousand  francs),  and  should  give  him 
another  twenty  thousand  for  himself,  and  still  another  for 
liis  son ;  and  he  also  wished  the  son  to  buy  tho  oflico  of 
mar^icluil  of  his  houses ;  for  he  wouhl  always  take  euro  of 
that-  son  ;  imd  also  to  say  that  for  himself,  bo  should  be  very 


130  MEMOIRS  OF   THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  t. 

glad  to  see  ChamOlart,  but  that,  for  the  present,  it  would 
give  him  too  much  pain ;  adding  that  it  would  be  best  if 
Chamillart  retired  that  very  day ;  that  he  could  live  in  Paris 
and  go  and  come  wherever  he  wished ;  reiterating  at  the  end 
the  assurances  of  his  friendship.  M.  de  Beauvilliers,  grieved 
to  the  heart  at  the  thing  itself,  and  at  so  harsh  a  mission, 
tried  to  avoid  it ;  but  the  king  told  him  that  he  had  expressly 
chosen  him,  as  ChamiUart's  friend,  to  spare  him  as  much  as 
possible.  A  moment  after  he  re-entered  the  council  room, 
followed  by  the  duke,  where  Torcy,  Chamillart,  and  Desmarets 
were  waiting  for  him.  Nothing  in  the  king's  air  or  manner 
during  the  council  gave  the  slightest  suspicion  of  anything 
amiss.  There  was  even  mention  of  an  affair  about  which 
the  king  had  asked  for  a  report  from  Chamillart ;  the  latter 
spoke  of  it,  and  the  king  told  him  to  bring  it  that  evening 
when  he  came  to  work  with  him  at  Mme.  de  Maintenon's. 

Beauvilliers,  in  great  anguish,  remained,  after  the  other 
ministers,  alone  with  the  king ;  to  whom  he  frankly  told 
his  distress,  entreating  to  be  allowed  at  least  to  associate  the 
Due  de  Chevreuse  in  the  sad  commission  in  order  to  share 
its  weight ;  to  this  the  king  consented,  but  the  Due  de 
Chevreuse  was  grieved. 

At  four  in  the  afternoon  the  two  dukes  wended  their  way 
and  were  announced  to  Chamillart,  who  was  working  alone  in 
His  magnan-  ^^^  Cabinet.  They  entered  with  an  air  of  con- 
""''y-  sternation  which  the  unhappy  minister  felt  at 

once  meant  something  extraordinary,  and  without  giving 
them  time  to  speak  he  said,  with  a  serene  and  tranquil  face : 
"  What  is  it,  gentlemen  ?  If  it  concerns  me,  you  may  speak 
freely  ;  I  have  long  been  prepared  for  all."  This  gentle  firm- 
ness moved  them  still  more.  They  could  scarcely  tell  him 
what  brought  them.  ChamiUart  listened  without  a  change 
of  face,  and  then,  in  the  same  tone  and  manner,  said :  "  The 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  131 

king  is  master.  I  have  tried  to  serve  him  with  my  best ;  I 
hope  another  may  be  more  fortunate  and  please  him  better. 
It  is  much  that  I  can  rely  upon  his  kindness,  and  also  that 
I  receive  these  marks  of  it  at  the  present  moment."  He 
then  asked  if  he  was  permitted  to  write  to  the  king,  and 
whether  they  would  do  him  the  kindness  to  take  charge 
of  his  letter.  On  being  assured  of  this,  he  instantly  wrote  a 
page  and  a  half  of  respects  and  thanks,  which  he  read  to 
them.  He  had  just  finished  the  report  the  king  had  asked 
for ;  and  saying  so  to  the  two  dukes  as  if  rejoicing  in  it,  he 
gave  it  to  them  to  transmit  to  the  king  with  his  letter. 

That  evening,  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  being  seated  at  the 
king's  supper  immediately  behind  the  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne,  the  latter  told  her  of  the  downfall,  the  pensions,  and 
the  office  for  the  son.  After  supper,  which  Mme.  de  Saint- 
Simon  thought  very  long,  the  princess  came  to  her  and 
charged  her  to  take  much  friendliness  from  her  to  the 
daughters  of  Chamillart,  especially  the  Duchesse  de  Lorges, 
whom  she  loved,  and  say  to  them  how  she  pitied  them, 
and  also  to  assure  them  of  her  protection  and  all  the  allevia- 
tions of  their  misfortune  which  might  depend  on  her. 

The  Due  de  Lorges  was  not  satisfied  with  any  of  the 
family ;  he  stayed  with  us  very  late  and  then  went  to  them 
at  rii^tang,  persuaded  to  do  his  best  for  their  benefit ;  which 
he  afterwards  did,  constantly.  I  charged  him  with  a  line 
of  tender  friendship  for  Cliamillart,  whom  I  asked,  in  my 
note,  to  send  mo  word  vcrlially  whether  lie  absolutely  wished 
to  be  alone  that  first  day,  or  whether  wo  might  go  to  liim. 

Wo  have  seen,  by  all  that  has  been  said  of  him  on  other 
occasions,  what  his  nature  was ;  gnnllo,  simple,  obliging, 
true,  upri'^dil, ;  a  li.ird  \vurl<(;r,  loving  the  Stntiwuid  the  king 
like  a  niiHtrcsa  ;  never  HiiHjiicirnis  or  spiteful;  going  his  way 
to  what  ho  thought  beat ;  with  few  idoas,  obstinate  to  e.vcesa, 


132  MEMOIES  OF   THE  DUC   DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  v. 

never  supposing  he  could  be  mistaken,  confident  on  all 
points,  and  above  all,  infatuated  in  the  belief  that  march- 
ing straight  before  him  and  having  the  king  with  him 
(which  he  never  doubted),  all  other  precautions  were  useless ; 
and  with  this  opinion  ignorant  of  the  Court  in  the  midst  of 
the  Court. 

The  Prince  de  Carignan  died  at  this  time,  in  his  seventy- 
ninth   year.     He   was   son  of   Prince   Thomas,  and   of   the 
daughter  of  the  Comte  de  Soissons,  last  prin- 

Deathof  °  ^ 

the  Prince  de         cess  of  the  blood  of  that  younger  branch  of 
angnan.  ^^^  Bourbous.     Priuce  Thomas  was  the  son  of 

the  Infanta  Catherine,  daughter  of  Phihp  II.,  of  Spain,  sister 
of  Philip  III.,  grandfather  of  the  queen  of  Louis  XIV.,  and  of 
the  celebrated  Charles  Emmanuel,  Due  de  Savoie,  vanquished 
by  the  skill,  courage,  and  sword  of  Louis  XIII.  at  the  famous 
pass  of  Susa.  This  Prince  de  Carignan,  of  whose  death  I 
now  speak,  was  bom  deaf  and  dumb.  He  was  the  elder 
brother  of  the  Comte  de  Soissons,  husband  of  Mazarin's 
niece  [Olympia  Mancini],  uncle,  consequently,  of  the  Comte 
de  Soissons,  so  strangely  married  in  France,  and  of  the 
celebrated  Prince  Eugfeue ;  of  this  branch  of  Soissons-Savoie 
none  remain. 

His  cruel  infirmity  distressed  the  house  of  Savoie,  all  the 
more  because  the  Prince  showed  the  spirit,  sense,  and  intel- 
lect of  which  his  station  was  capable.  After  trying  eveiy 
remedy,  a  desperate  course  was  decided  on ;  namely,  to  give 
him  up  wholly  to  a  man  who  promised  to  make  him  speak 
and  hear,  provided  he  were  so  completely  master  of  him  for 
several  years  that  no  one  should  know  what  was  done  with 
him.  The  truth  is  that  he  treated  him  as  men  break  dogs,  or 
as  those  trainers  do  who  from  time  to  time  exhibit  all  sorts 
of  animals  for  money,  whose  tricks  and  obedience  astonish 
the  public,  and  seem  to  show  that  the  animals  themselves 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  133 

hear  and  understand  their  master,  through  hunger,  whipping, 
privation  of  light,  and  rewards  in  proportion.  The  success 
was  such  that  he  made  him  hear  (aided  by  the  movement 
of  the  hps  and  a  few  gestures),  comprehend  everything, 
and  read,  ^vrite,  and  even  speak,  though  vvdth  some  diffi- 
culty. The  prince,  profiting  by  the  cruel  lessons  he  had 
received,  applied  himself  with  such  inteUigence,  will,  and 
penetration  that  he  possessed  several  languages,  some 
sciences,  and  a  perfect  knowledge  of  history.  He  made 
himself  a  good  statesman,  so  that  he  was  much  consulted  on 
the  affairs  of  the  nation,  and  became  in  Turin  even  more 
of  a  personage  through  capacity  than  by  birth.  He  held  his 
little  Court  there,  and  did  so  with  dignity  throughout  his 
long  life,  which  may  indeed  be  called  a  prodigy.  He  married 
in  1684  an  Este-Modena,  daughter  of  the  Marquis  de  Scan- 
diano,  who  sent  a  gentleman  to  inform  the  king  of  his  death. 
The  king  made  a  suitable  reply,  and  went  mto  mourning  for 
fifteen  days. 

The  Prince  de  Lambesc,  only  son  of  the  Comte  de  Brionne, 

who  was  the  eldest  son  of  M.  le  Grand,  married  early  in  the 

year   the  eldest  daughter  of  the  late  Due  de 

Worthy  act  on 

the  part  of  Duras,  cldcr  brother  of  the  present  Mardchal 

Due  de  Duras,  who  was  beautiful  as  the  day, 
very  well  formed,  and  very  rich.  She  had  but  one  sister, 
who  afterwards  married  Comte  d'Egmont.  The  action  taken 
by  M.  le  Grand  some  tiiuo  after  this  marriage  deserves  not 
to  be  forgotten.  The  Duchesse  de  Duras,  tlieir  mother,  had 
a  suit  at  law  against  her  brother-in-law,  for  the  ])ropcrty  of 
her  daughters ;  she  claimed  a  great  deal,  and  pushed  the 
affair  wilh  much  energy,  M.  lo  Grand  refused  to  sue,  uiid 
foihadc  liis  won  and  gnmdHon,  and  ev(Mi  liis  grnndilauglil(>r- 
iii-l;tw  to  do  H(i ;  Haying  tliiit  if  In;  i-.ould  do  st)  hoiionmltly  lu' 
woidil  KiKi   for  Ihc,  Murdchal   Due  do  Durus;  LliiiL  Ua  ilid  iu»t 


134  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,    [chap.  v. 

take  his  niece  to  ruin  him  and  his  house,  and  that  his  grand- 
daughter was  rich  enough  to  make  three  or  four  hundred 
thousand  francs,  more  or  less,  of  no  consideration  in  com- 
parison with  the  ruin  of  a  paternal  uncle  and  the  head  of 
her  family.  Another  suit  was  for  the  division  of  property 
between  the  two  sisters.  He  insisted  that  the  Abb^  de  Lor- 
raine, his  son,  who  died  Bishop  of  Bayeux,  should  be  present 
at  the  trial,  and  charged  him  to  cede,  and  cause  to  be  de- 
cided in  favour  of  the  younger  sister,  any  of  the  points  that 
were  litigious,  because  his  granddaughter-in-law  was  rich 
enough ;  and  it  was  not  a  matter  of  indifference  to  him  that, 
since  she  had  married  his  grandson,  her  sister  should  have 
enough  to  make  an  alhance  that  was  suitable  to  them  alL 
Truly,  this  was  thinking  and  acting  with  grandeur,  for 
all  was  done  as  he  directed.  But  it  is  also  true  that  Mme. 
dArmagnac  was  dead,  or  she  would  never  have  let  M.  le 
Grand  do  it. 

For  a  long  time  past  I  had  perceived  that  the  Bishop  of 

Chartres  had  only  too  rightly  warned  me  of  the  ill  turn  that 

some  one  had  done  me  with  the  king,  and  the 

Reasons  which  _  _  _ 

inclined  me  to        stroug  imprcssiou  it  had  made  upon  him.     liis 

retire  from  Court.        ,  „  ,  i  i  ,     i 

change  or  manner  to  me  could  not  be  more 
marked,  and  though  I  still  went  upon  all  the  trips  to  Marly, 
I  could  not  doubt  that  it  was  not  upon  my  o^\^l  account. 
Provoked  at  so  many  chimney-pots,  as  it  were,  falling  on  my 
head  while  I  went  my  way ;  unable  to  discover  the  seat  of 
the  evil,  nor,  consequently,  its  remedy ;  weary  of  having  to 
do  with  powerful  and  violent  enemies,  whom  I  had  done 
nothing  to  draw  upon  me  (such  as  M.  le  Due  and  Mme.  la 
Duchesse,  the  cabal  of  VendSme,  and  all  the  envious  and 
inimical  persons  who  fill  courts)  ;  possessing,  on  the  other 
hand,  only  weak  or  enfeebled  friends,  such  as  Chamillart,  the 
chancellor,  Mar^chal  de  Boufflers,  and  the  Dues  de  Beauvil- 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  135 

liers  and  de  Che^Teuse,  who,  with  all  their  good  will,  could 
be  of  no  help  to  nie  ;  overcome,  in  short,  with  vexation, —  I 
wanted  to  quit  the  Court  and  abandon  its  ideas. 

Mnie.  de  Saint-Simon,  more  judicious  than  I,  represented 
to  me  the  continual  and  the  unexpected  changes  in  all  Courts 
and  those  which  years  brought  with  them ;  our  dependence 
upon  a  life  at  Court  not  only  for  our  fortunes,  but  even  for 
my  patrimony ;  with  many  other  reasons.  Finally  we  agreed 
to  go  and  spend  two  years  in  Guyenne,  under  pretext  of 
examining  for  ourselves  a  large  estate  we  owned  there,  but 
had  never  seen ;  making  thus  a  long  absence  without  dis- 
pleasing the  king,  and  seeing  later  what  course  existing 
cu'cumstances  might  urge  us  to  take. 

M.  de  BeauvilKers,  who  wished  to  add  M.  de  Chevreuse  to 
the  consultation  we  had  with  him,  and  the  chancellor  with 
whom  we  talked  later,  were  of  our  opinion,  seeing  their 
inability  to  persuade  me  to  remain  at  Court ;  but  they  ad- 
vised us  to  talk  about  the  journey  some  time  beforehand,  so 
as  to  avoid  any  appearance  of  vexation,  or  allow  it  to  be 
bruited  about  that  I  had  received  a  gentle  hint  to  disappear. 

It  was  necessary  to  obtain  the  king's  permission  for  so 
long  an  absence  to  a  distant  place.  But  I  did  not  wish  to 
speak  to  him  myself  in  my  present  situation.  La  Vrilli6rc, 
a  very  great  friend  of  mine,  did  so  for  me,  and  the  king 
thought  well  of  it.  However,  for  reasons  I  need  not  explain 
here,  it  became  impossible  for  us  to  go  to  Blaye,  and  I  there- 
fore decided  to  go  to  La  FertiS,  resolving  to  live  tliere  one  or 
more  years,  and  only  to  hco  the  Court  occasionally  ;  perhaps 
not  every  year  if  it  were  possible  to  avoid  it  without  failing 
in  the  strictest  and  most  literal  iluty. 

My  n.s.siduity  to  f>haniillart  after  his  downfall,  at  l'l<'(iing, 
Monl,  ri*!vr'(|n(i,  iind  in  I'aris,  lifid  cauHcd  (lis])l('asun\  1  went 
to  ]/,[,  Vc.rW'.  SI   nionl.li  iiflci'  In-   liiid   •^mc   iiilu  llir  coinilry  in 


136  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAIXT-SDION.     [chap.  v. 

search  of  an  estate  on  which  to  live  far  away  from  Paris. 
His  daughters  came  with  us  and  waited  for  him  at  La  Fertd, 
where  he  came  also  after  his  journeys,  and  where  I  received 
him  with  fetes  and  amusements  which  I  should  not  have 
given  him  in  the  days  of  his  favour  and  office ;  but  now  I 
had  no  scruple  because  there  was  no  court  to  make  and 
nothing  to  be  obtamed  from  him ;  he  was  therefore  keenly 
sensible  of  my  attentions.  He  was  with  me  a  long  time, 
and  left  his  daughters  with  us  while  he  went  to  Paris  to 
wind  up  liis  affairs  and  conclude  the  purchase  of  the  estate 
of  Courcelles  in  INiaine.  I  stayed,  as  I  intended,  in  my  own 
home,  where,  however,  I  was  fully  informed  of  all  that  was 
going  on.  I  will  now  return  to  the  affairs  of  the  Court 
before  and  after  my  departure  from  it,  which  latter  was 
much  delayed,  although  I  continued  to  sigh  for  it  with 
ardent  vexation. 

Expression  fails  me  for  that  which  I  want  to  make  under- 
stood.    The  Court,  by  the  two  great  changes  in  the  position 
and  fortunes  of  Vendome  and  Chamillart,  was 

Sketch  of  the 

Court ;  the  three  morc  than  evcr  divided  against  itself.  To 
speak  of  cabals  is  perhaps  too  much  to  say, 
but  the  proper  word  for  what  took  place  does  not  pre- 
sent itself.  Though  quite  too  strong,  I  shall  say  cabal, 
adding,  however,  that  it  goes  beyond  my  meaning,  although 
without  perpetual  paraphrases  I  could  not  render  that  mean- 
ing in  any  other  way. 

Three  parties  divided  the  Court  and  included  its  prmcipal 
personages ;  very  few  of  whom  were  manifest,  while  several 
others  had  their  nooks  and  corners  and  private  reservations. 
The  smallest  number  had  nothing  in  view  but  the  good  of 
the  State,  the  tottering  condition  of  which  was  felt  by  all  to 
be  their  chief  concern ;  the  greater  number  had  no  other  ob- 
ject than  themselves,  each  following  what  he  proposed  to 


/////.     ,/,         f//t{///t//>f/ 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  137 

himself  in  the  way  of  consideration,  authority,  and  acquire- 
ment of  power ;  some  sought  office  and  a  sudden  rise  to 
fortune;  others,  more  secretive,  or  less  important,  held  to 
some  one  of  the  three  parties,  but  formed  a  sub-order  which 
sometimes  gave  an  impetus  to  affairs  and  always  kept  the 
civil  war  of  tongues  a-going. 

In  order  to  be  better  understood,  let  us  name  things,  and 
call  these  three  parties  the  cabal  of  the  seigneurs  (the  name 
given  to  it  at  the  time),  that  of  the  ministers,  and  that  of 
Meudon.  Under  the  wing  of  Mme.  de  Maintenon  gathered 
the  first.  In  the  second,  with  hopes  fed  by  the  birth,  the 
virtue,  the  talents  of  the  Due  de  Bourgogne,  and  bound 
together  in  decided  affection,  were  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers, 
the  most  apparent  among  them,  the  Due  de  Chevreuse,  the 
soul  and  the  combiner  of  all,  the  Archbishop  of  Cambrai 
from  the  depths  of  his  exile,  the  pilot ;  and  in  sub-order, 
Torcy  and  Desmarets,  P^re  Telher,  the  Jesuits,  and  Saint- 
Sulpice  (the  latter  all  mutually  distant  from  one  another). 
The  third,  the  cabal  of  Meudon,  I  have  already  explained. 

The  first  two  held  each  other  in  reciprocal  misgiving; 
the  second  advanced  silently;  the  other,  on  the  contrary, 
with  noise,  and  seeking  all  occasions  to  injure  its  rival. 
All  the  fine  fashion  of  the  Court  and  army  belonged  to  the 
cabal  of  the  seigneurs,  and  so  did  a  quantity  of  the  wiser 
heads,  disgusted  and  impatient  with  the  government  and 
attracted  by  the  honesty  of  BoufUers  and  the  talents  of 
Ilarcourt. 

What  tlio  world    calls  chance,  which  is,  like  all  things 

v.he,  an  arrangenumt  of   Providence,  had  nil  my  life  allied 

me,   with   marked    Bingulnrity,   to    th(>    most 

My  nituation 

BmonKthe«o  oppoRcd    pcrsoiiH ;    iiiid   i(    iin\v    did    tlic    siinie 

for  inc,  with   regard  tn  (he  (wo  cabals  of    tlie 

HCii'/tKMii'M   ;iml    llic.   iniinMltTs.      Miil  iiclv    iiiiilc.d   (,t>    ihti    Duch 


138  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  v. 

de  Beaiivilliers  and  Chevreuse  and  to  nearly  all  their  family ; 
intimately  allied  with  Chamillart  even  to  the  depths  of  his 
downfall;  standing  very  well  with  the  Jesuits  and  with 
Monseigneur  le  Due  de  Bourgogne  (as  I  have  shown  in 
connection  with  the  Flanders  affair)  ;  well  also,  although 
at  a  distance  and  through  the  two  dukes,  with  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Cambrai  (though  not  personally  knowing  him), 
—  my  heart  was  with  this  cabal,  which  could  count  on  the 
Due  de  Bourgogne  as  being  with  it,  against  and  in  spite 
of  all. 

On  the  other  side,  I  was  the  depositary  of  the  most 
entire  domestic  and  public  confidence  of  the  chancellor 
and  of  almost  his  whole  family ;  in  continual  intimacy,  as 
will  presently  be  seen,  with  the  Due  and  Duchesse  de 
Villeroy,  and  through  them  with  the  Due  de  La  Roche 
Guyon,  with  whom  they  were  one ;  in  full  confidence  also 
with  the  chief  equerry,  with  Du  Mont,  with  Bignon,  who, 
with  liis  wife,  was  in  that  of  Mile.  Choin ;  these  last 
belonged  to  the  Meudon  cabal  (which  being  stOl  afloat, 
I  could  not  desire  that  either  of  the  two  others  should 
succumb) ;  and  also  with  Harcourt,  always  ready  to  open 
himself  freely  to  me  whenever  I  wished  it. 

I  may  dare  to  say  that  the  esteem  of  all  these  leading 
personages,  joined  to  the  friendship  that  many  of  them 
felt  for  me,  gave  them,  Harcourt  excepted,  a  freedom,  an 
ease,  a  perfect  confidence  in  speaking  to  me  of  all  the  most 
secret  and  important  matters ;  not  perhaps  without  some- 
thing escaping  them  at  times  that  affected  my  friends  who 
were  opposed  to  them,  but  without  the  speakers  being  ia 
the  least  troubled  at  having  done  so.  I  knew  much  more 
through  the  chancellor  and  Mardchal  de  Boufflers  than 
through  the  Dues  de  Chevreuse  and  de  BeauviUiers,  who 
were  not  vigilant  and  were  often  ignorant. 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  139 

To  these  more  serious  connections  I  added  that  of  a 
close  court  intimacy  with  the  best-informed  women,  and 
those  most  freely  admitted  to  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne, 
who,  young  and  old,  saw  many  things  for  themselves  and 
knew  of  all  through  the  princess ;  so  that  from  day  to  day 
I  w^as  informed  to  the  very  depths  of  this  curious  sphere, 
and,  often  by  the  same  means,  of  many  of  the  secret  actions 
in  the  sanctuary  of  Mme.  de  Maintenon.  The  gossip  was 
amusing  enough,  and  it  was  seldom  that  amid  the  gossip 
there  was  not  something  important  and  instructive  to  one 
who  was  thoroughly  well-informed  about  such  matters. 

I  was  also  at  times  given  a  sight  of  another  interior,  not 
less  of  a  sanctuary,  through  the  m.ost  confidential  valets, 
who,  being  at  all  hours  in  the  king's  cabinets,  did  not  keep 
their  eyes  nor  their  ears  closed. 

Thus  it  happened  that  I  was  daily  informed,  by  genuine, 
direct,  and  sure  channels,  of  all  things  both  great  and  small. 
My  curiosity,  independently  of  other  reasons,  found  its  satis- 
faction; and  it  must  be  owned  that  whoever  you  may  be, 
personage  or  nobody,  that  is  the  only  food  you  live  on  at 
Courts,  and  without  it  you  languish  away. 

My  continual  attention  was  given  to  preserving  extreme 
secrecy  from  one  to  the  other  in  all  matters  which  con- 
cerned them  mutually ;  to  a  scupulous  discernment  of  things 
whicli  might  have  consequences,  and  to  keeping  silence 
aliuut  tlicni,  indifferent  as  they  might  seem;  and  as  for  those 
which  really  were  indiflbrent,  to  relate  them  in  a  way  to  give 
find  encourage  confidence  ;  which  rules  made  the  safety  of  my 
iiilcrconrHe  with  all,  and  also  the  pleasure  of  it;  for  T  (»fton 
gav(!  UM  iiiiicl)  iiiid  iiKifc  lliiiii  r  I'dcciviMl,  without  its  over 
liJi|)peniiig  to  iiic  to  nuM't  with  (iitluu*  cooling-olT,  di.strust, 
or  loHH  rnuikiic.Hs  in  a  .single  individniil,  although  they  all 
knew  very  wc-U  that  1   was  in  tlm  Hunie  c1(jhu  relations  with 


140  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  v. 

many  of  the  cabal  opposed  to  theirs ;  they  one  and  all 
spoke  to  me  freely  of  those  relations  when  occasion  offered, 
and  always  moderately  about  such  persons,  out  of  regard 
for  my  feelings,  except  on  some  occasions  when  a  few 
vivacities  escaped  them,  to  which  I  shut  my  eyes. 

We  must  now  turn  back  a  trifle  to  see  the  result  of  the 

affairs  of  the   Due   d'Orldans   in   Spain,  which   came  to  a 

crisis  at  this  time,  and  has  been  the  source 

AfTairs  in  Spain 

of  the  Due  of   all  the  troubles  which  later  accompanied 

his  life  of  bitterness  and  distress,  and  have 
even  stretched  thence  over  the  more  free  and  liberated 
period  of  his  career  during  which  he  has  been  clothed  with 
sovereign  power. 

Without  saying  more  at  the  present  time  about  his 
character,  it  sufiices  to  remark  that  his  enforced  idleness, 
continually  relieved  and  amused  by  trips  to  Paris,  by 
experiments  in  chemistry  which  were  very  undesirable, 
and  by  searchings  into  the  future  that  were  still  more  so ; 
delivered  up  to  his  mistress,  Mme.  d'Argenton,  to  debauch- 
ery, and  to  bad  company  with  an  air  of  bravado ;  spending 
little  of  his  time  at  Court,  and  even  less  with  his  wife,  —  all 
this  had  done  him  gTeat  injury  in  the  mind  of  the  world, 
and  stiU  more  in  that  of  the  king,  before  the  necessities  of 
war  obliged  the  latter  to  send  him  to  Italy,  and  induced  him, 
after  the  misfortunes  at  Turin  (which  happened  without  the 
duke's  concurrence),  to  console  him  for  that  and  for  his 
wound  by  the  command  of  the  armies  in  Spain. 

The  king  had  told  the  duke  he  desired  that  he  should 
keep  on  good  terms  with  Mme.  des  Ursins,  interfere  in 
nothing  except  the  things  that  concerned  the  war,  and  take 
no  part  in  other  public  matters.  The  Due  d'Orldans  foUowed 
this  order  strictly ;  Mme.  des  Ursins  sought  only  to  please 
him.     She  affected  to  write  me  about  him  the  sort  of  praises 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  141 

that  are  meant  to  be  repeated.  I  knew  the  orders  of  the 
king  about  hev ;  I  was  the  friend^  of  both  to  the  very  ut- 
most ;  I  desired  then-  union  for  the  good  of  both,  but  espe- 
cially for  that  of  the  Due  d'Orldans,  and  I  took  good  care 
to  let  him  hear  whatever  might  contribute  to  it. 

By  the  end  of  his  first  campaign,  and  still  more  after  his 
stay  in  Madrid,  he  felt  the  faults  which  ambition  and  ava- 
riciousness  were  leading  the  Princesse  des  Ursins  to  commit. 
He  had  no  difficulty  in  making  out  that  she  was  extremely 
feared  and  hated.  Perhaps  it  was  mere  curiosity  that  led 
him  in  the  first  instance  to  listen  to  some  of  the  principal 
malcontents.  Princes,  above  all  men,  want  to  be  liked. 
E\'erything  was  echoed  in  Spain,  and  from  Spain  here ;  his 
praises  of  every  kind  resounded :  work,  details,  capacity, 
valour,  courage  of  mind,  energy,  resources,  affability,  kind- 
ness ;  and  I  don't  know  that  he  did  not  take  the  homage 
of  desires  addressed  to  rank  and  power  for  the  homage  of 
hearts;  neither  do  I  know  exactly  to  what  point  he  was 
flattered  and  seduced.  The  malcontents  of  the  government 
and  of  the  Princesse  des  Ursins  gathered  about  him ;  and  he 
made  so  little  secret  of  it  that  on  leaving  Madrid  for  a  short 
absence  in  Paris  he  asked  for  the  pardon  of  several  and 
restored  them  to  favour,  obtained  for  others  what  they 
desired,  and  replied  to  the  complaints  that  Mme  des  Ursins 
made  him,  in  presence  of  the  king  and  queen,  that  he  thought 
lie  was  serving  the  latter  to  the  best  advantage  in  retaining 
these  people  by  words  and  assistance,  instead  of  driving 
them  to  Barcelona,  where  they  would  have  rushed  into 
conspiracy  but  for  him. 

Towards  th(3  end  of  the  winter  the  king  asked  his  nejOiew 
ir  ho  really  wanted  to  return  to  Spain  for  tlu;  nc.\t  C!inii)aign. 
Tlio  duko  nsplied  in  a  manner  which,  while  proving  his  will- 
ingiKJHB  to  serve,  showed  no  oagornosfl,  and  ho  paid  no  heed 


142  MEMOIRS  OF   THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  y. 

to  the  important  meaning  which  might  have  lurked  in  the 
question.  He  told  me  about  it.  I  blamed  the  slackness  of 
his  repl}'',  and  represented  to  him  how  important  it  was  that 
peace  alone  should  put  an  end  to  his  campaigns. 

A  few  days  later  the  king  asked  him  how  he  thought  he 
stood  with  the  Princesse  des  Ursins,  and  when  he  answered 
that  he  had  reason  to  suppose  that  he  stood  very  well  with 
her,  the  king  told  him  that  she  feared  his  return  to  Spain, 
and  asked  very  urgently  that  he  should  not  be  sent  back, 
complaining  that  while  she  had  done  aU  she  could  to  please 
him,  he  had  allied  himself  with  her  enemies. 

M.  d'Orl^ans  replied  that  he  was  extremely  surprised  by 
these  complaints  of  Mme.  des  Ursins ;  that  he  had  taken 
the  greatest  pains,  as  his  Majesty  requested,  not  to  meddle 
in  any  matter  except  the  war ;  that  he  had  neglected  nothing 
to  prevent  Mme.  des  Ursins  from  taking  umbrage  at  his 
interference,  and  to  show  that  he  wished  to  live  in  all  peace 
and  friendship  with  her,  and  in  short,  that  he  had  really  done 
so.  He  added  that  it  was  true  he  knew  of  many  malversa- 
tions and  dangerous  manoeuvres  on  the  part  of  the  Princesse 
des  Ursins,  which  might  prove  the  ruin  of  their  Cathohc 
Majesties  and  of  their  crown ;  that  Mme.  des  Ursins  might 
perhaps  be  aware  of  this  knowledge  on  his  part,  and  was 
anxious  for  that  reason  that  he  should  not  return ;  but  he 
had  kept  so  strictly  to  what  the  king  had  enjoined  that  he 
ventured  to  call  his  Majesty  to  witness  that  this  was  the 
first  time  he  had  taken  the  liberty  to  speak  of  these  matters, 
and  he  should  still  have  left  them  in  silence  had  the  king 
himself  not  obliged  him  to  break  it  by  speaking  of  Mme.  des 
Ursins'  aversion,  which  was  equally  unknown  and  undeserved 
by  him. 

The  king  thought  a  moment,  and  then  said  that  things 
being  thus  he  thought  it  best  to  abstain  from  sending  him 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  143 

back  to  Spain ;  that  matters  there  were  at  a  crisis  where 
they  could  not  remain,  and  while  his  grandson  was  coming 
through  it,  it  was  better  not  to  interfere  with  Mme.  des 
Ursins'  administration ;  and  if  the  king  preserved  his  crown 
it  would  be  proper  then  to  discuss  the  matter  of  that  admin- 
istration, at  which  time  he  should  be  glad  to  consult  his 
nephew. 

The  Due  d'Orldans  accepted  the  situation  and  told  me 
about  it,  only  moderately  annoyed  as  I  thought ;  but  I  myself 
was  much  more  so  for  reasons  already  given.  He  told  me 
that  the  whole  intrigue  was  conducted  by  Mme.  des  Ursins 
and  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  and  that  the  king  had  told  him  so ; 
that  is  to  say,  that  Mme.  des  Ursins  had  written  to  Mme. 
de  Maintenon  herself,  without  any  intermediary,  for  in  fact 
she  needed  none,  especially  for  a  mutual  vengeance. 

Before  long  it  became  pubhc  that  M.  le  Due  d'Orldans 
would  not  return  to  the  army  in  Spain,  and  it  needed  no 
Terrible  storm  niore  to  excitc  an  exasperation  against  him. 
against  the  Due     fhe  cabal  of  Mcudou  had  missed  their  blow 

d'Orleans. 

on  the  Due  de  Bourgogne,  or  half-missed  it, 
for  they  had  ruined  him  with  Monseigneur.  The  present 
occasion  against  the  only  man  of  the  blood  royal  who  could 
figure  with  importance  was  too  fine  not  to  profit  by  it  to  the 
fullest  extent,  and  so  clear  the  way.  This  policy  was  helped 
by  the  personal  hatred  of  Mme.  la  Duchesse,  caused 
l)y  those  jealousies  of  rank  from  which  the  princes  of  the 
blood  could  never  free  themselves,  still  more  by  alTairs 
of  gallantry,  wliich,  past  as  they  were,  were  not  forgiven, 
and  l»y  envy  nt  his  commatid  of  the  armies,  little  as  she 
reilly  cared  for  M.  le  Due.  The  latter  also  did  not  rcstrnin 
liimsp.lf  from  saying  nnd  doing  the  worst  ho  could.  Tt  was 
wliisjjorcd  a])out  that  the  Due  d'Orh^atis  hiid  tried  (o  form  u 
party  to  phicc  him  on  Ihn  tJironn  of  S[);iin    Ity  ilriving  out 


144  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  v. 

Philippe  v.,  on  the  ground  of  his  incapacity  and  of  Mme. 
des  Ursins'  empire ;  that  he  had  been  in  treaty  with  Stanhope 
for  the  protection  of  the  archduke,  under  the  idea  that  it 
mattered  little  to  England  and  Holland  who  was  on  the 
throne  of  Spain,  provided  the  archduke  remained  master  of 
all  that  was  outside  its  borders,  and  that  whoever  was 
King  of  Spain  should  be  one  with  them,  allied  with  them, 
and  (no  matter  what  his  birth  might  be)  an  enemy  of,  or 
at  least  in  heart  aloof  from,  France.  This  was  the  talk 
that  had  most  currency. 

But  some  persons  went  much  farther.  These  spoke  of 
nothing  less  than  a  design  on  the  part  of  the  Due  d'Orldans 
to  have  his  marriage  dissolved  in  Rome,  as  degrading  and 
compelled  by  force ;  and  subsequently,  at  the  request  of  the 
emperor,  declare  his  children  bastards,  in  order  to  marry  the 
queen  dowager,  widow  of  Charles  II.  and  sister  of  the  em- 
press, who  then  had  enormous  wealth,  mount  the  throne  of 
Spain  with  her,  and  (certain  that  she  could  have  no  children) 
marry  after  her  death  the  d'Argenton;  for  all  of  which 
purposes  and  to  avoid  difficulties,  he  would  poison  the 
Duchesse  d'Orldans.  Considering  his  dabblings  in  alembics, 
chemistry,  physics,  and  the  amusements  of  a  laboratory, 
also  his  being  in  the  clutches  of  mystical  impostors,  it  was 
lucky  for  the  Due  d'Orl^ans  that  his  wife,  who  was  then 
pregnant,  and  had  just  at  this  very  time  a  frightful  attack 
of  colic,  came  happily  out  of  it,  and  soon  after  gave  birth  to 
her  child,  which  served,  not  a  little,  to  put  an  end  to  the 
latter  tale. 

I  was  then,  as  I  have  already  remarked,  in  a  sort  of  dis- 
grace. I  no  longer  went  to  Marly ;  a  disagreeable  situation, 
which  was  now  becoming  visible.  My  close  connection 
with  the  Due  d'Orl^ans  disquieted  my  friends  ;  they  pressed 
me  to  avoid  him  a  little.     The  experience  I  had  had  of  what 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  145 

those  who  either  hated  or  feared  me  would  do,  especially  the 
cabal  of  Meudon,  and  in  particular  M.  le  Due  and  Mme.  la 
Duchesse,  made  me  reflect  for  myself  that  in  the  situation 
in  which  I  was  with  the  l^ing,  this  great  intimacy  gave 
them  a  fine  chance  against  me.  But,  all  things  considered, 
I  thought  that  at  Court  as  in  war  a  man  needed  honour 
and  courage,  and  to  know,  with  discernment,  how  to  face 
danger.  I  did  not  think,  therefore,  that  I  ought  to  show 
fear,  or  make  the  slightest  difference  in  my  old  and 
intimate  intercourse  with  the  Due  d'Orldans  in  these 
days  of  his  need,  from  the  strange  abandonment  he  now 
experienced.  Never  were  clamours  so  universal,  never  a 
greater  hue  and  cry,  never  an  abandonment  hke  that  in 
which  the  Due  d'Orldans  now  found  himself,  and  all  for 
mere  folly  ;  for  had  there  been  any  wrong,  it  must  have 
been  known  in  the  end ;  no  attempt  was  made  to  conceal 
anything,  and  no  one,  no  matter  who,  ever  knew  more  on  the 
subject  than  I  have  related,  either  then  or  at  any  future 
time.  I  infer  that  the  king  and  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  and 
Mme.  des  Ursins  herself,  never  knew  more,  —  they  who 
pushed  the  affair  to  extremes  and  were  consequently  the 
most  interested  in  obtaining  proofs. 

I  went  nearly  every  evening  to  talk  with  the  chancellor 
in  his  cabinet,  and  this  affair  had  been  mentioned  between 
Proposal  to  ^^>  ^^^  ^"1.7  Superficially  because  of  the  pres- 

arraign  him.  (j„(.g  Qf  others.  One  cveniug  I  went  early  and 
found  liim  alone,  walking  up  and  down  with  his  head  bent 
and  liis  two  arms  thrust  through  the  slits  of  liis  robe,  na  was 
iii.s  fashion  wlien  mncli  absorbed  in  thouglit.  Ilo  bognn  at 
once  to  speak  of  the  rumours  nlloiit,  which  were  getting 
HtTong(!r;  then,  as  if  in  ajtproach  the  nuiMer  gently,  lie  added 
tlic.rc  had  been  some  talk  of  a  criminal  trial,  and  he  ques- 
tioned nic,  as  if  from  pure  curioaity  and  in  course  of  con- 

VOL.  II.  — 10 


146  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  v. 

versation,  about  the  forms  to  be  observed,  knowing  that  I 
was  well  informed  on  all  questions  of  the  peerage.  I  told 
him  what  I  knew  about  the  trials  of  peers,  and  cited  ex- 
amples. He  gathered  himself  in  still  more,  and  took  several 
turns  up  and  down,  I  with  him,  before  either  of  us  uttered 
a  word,  he  gazing  on  the  ground,  I  watching  him  with  aU 
my  eyes. 

Suddenly  the  chancellor  stopped,  and  turned  to  me,  as  if 
waking  with  a  start.  "  And  you,"  he  said,  "  if  that  happens, 
you  are  peer  of  France ;  aU  of  them  will  be  convoked,  and 
you  too ;  you  are  the  friend  of  the  Due  d'Orldans  ;  I  sup- 
pose him  guilty  ;  how  will  you  get  out  of  it  ? "  "  Monsieur," 
I  said  boldly,  "  don't  run  your  nose  into  that,  or  you  will 
break  it."  "  But,"  he  said  again,  "  I  tell  you  I  suppose  him 
guilty  and  brought  to  judgment ;  and  I  say  again :  What 
will  you  do  ? "  "  ^¥hat  shall  I  do  ?  "  I  answered ;  "  that  does 
not  trouble  me.  I  shaU  go  there,  because  the  oath  of  a  peer 
is  plain  ;  the  convocation  necessitates  my  going.  I  shall 
listen  tranquilly  in  my  seat  to  all  that  is  reported  and  said 
before  me.  "WTien  my  turn  comes  to  speak  I  shall  say  that 
before  entering  upon  any  examination  of  proofs  it  is  neces- 
sary to  establish  the  legahty  of  the  question ;  that  the  matter 
concerned  is  a  conspiracy,  real  or  supposed,  to  dethrone 
the  King  of  Spain  and  usurp  his  crown ;  that  act  is  the 
worst  form  of  the  crime  of  lese-majeste ;  but  it  concerns 
the  king  and  crown  of  Spain,  and  not  France  at  all.  Conse- 
quently, before  proceeding  farther,  I  do  not  think  the  Court 
is  supplied  with  peers  (among  whom  I  am)  sufficiently  com- 
petent to  judge  of  the  crime  of  lese-majeste  to  a  foreign  king, 
nor  that  it  consists  with  the  dignity  of  the  crown  to  deliver 
up  a  prince,  so  near  in  blood,  to  a  Spanish  tribunal,  which 
alone  is  competent  to  take  cognizance  of  a  crime  that  con- 
cerns the  king  and  crown  of  Spain.     That  said,  I  think  the 


1700]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  147 

assembly  will  find  itself  surprised  and  embarrassed,  and  if 
there  is  a  debate  I  shall  not  have  any  difficulty  in  main- 
■  taining  my  opinion."  The  chancellor  was  amazed  to  the 
last  degree,  and  after  a  few  moments'  silence  he  said,  look- 
ing at  me,  stamping  his  foot  and  smiling  like  a  man  relieved, 
"  You  are  a  friend  in  need ;  I  never  thought  of  that ;  but  it 
is  solid."  He  reasoned  it  over  a  little  while  and  then  dis- 
missed me,  which  he  never  did  at  that  hour,  because  the 
work  of  his  day  was  over  and  he  was  then  given  up  to  his 
intimate  friends.     As  I  went  out,  the  chief  equerry  went  in. 

I  felt  that  the  impression  I  had  made  on  the  chancellor 
was  so  strong  that  I  went  at  once  and  related  the  whole 
thing  to  the  Due  d'Orl^ans,  who  embraced  me  with  all  his 
heart.  I  have  never  known  what  the  chancellor  did,  but  the 
next  day  he  worked  alone  with  the  king  after  the  council 
was  over.  This  was  the  last  of  that  matter;  twenty-four 
hours  later  the  rumours  were  suddenly  changed ;  it  was  first 
whispered  and  then  said  openly  that  there  would  be  no  trial, 
and  immediately  after  the  talk  ceased.  The  king  allowed  it 
to  be  understood  among  a  few  persons,  in  order  to  spread  it 
about,  that  he  had  looked  into  the  affair  and  was  surprised 
that  so  much  talk  had  been  made  about  it ;  and  moreover 
that  he  thought  it  very, strange  so  many  evil  things  had  been 
said. 

That  silenced  people  in  public,  but  not  in  private,  where 
the  affair  was  long  discussed.  Each  one  believed  as  he 
pleased  according  to  his  affections  and  ideas.  The  king  con- 
tinued alienated  from  his  ne])hew,  and  Monscigncur,  who 
never  forgave  him,  inailc  bim  i'c.cl  it  not  only  on  all  ]niblic 
occasions,  but  in  (ndiiiiiry  life  in  a  manner  most  mortifying, 
'i'ho  Court  witncHHcd  at  iill  niomeiitB  the  curt  mnnucM-  of  iUc 
king  to  liis  noyihcw,  and  bis  air  of  constraint.  That  did  not 
Hci'vo  to  Ijring  society  back  to  the  prince,  whoso  discoiufort 


148  MEMOIES  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  v. 

and  restraint  sent  him,  after  a  short  period  of  cautious  con- 
duct, more  than  ever  to  Paris  to  enjoy  the  liberty  he  could 
not  have  elsewhere,  and  to  drown  his  troubles  in  debauchery. 

If  Mme.  des  Ursins  was  mortified  at  merely  touching  for 
an  instant  the  end  she  aimed  for,  Mme.  de  Maintenon  with 
her  consorts,  and  Mile.  Choin  with  hers  were  not  more  con- 
tent ;  and  they  took  great  pains  to  foster  hatred  and  turn  into 
odious  suspicions  the  evident  estrangement  of  the  king  and 
Monseigneur,  and  to  keep  the  Court  in  its  belief  that  it  was 
rash  to  pay  respect  to  the  Due  d'Orl^ans  ;  consequently  his 
abandonment  continued.  He  felt  it,  but,  depressed  by  his 
relations  with  the  king  and  Monseigneur,  he  did  but  little 
to  concihate  society,  which,  however,  did  not  flee  him,  as  it 
did  in  the  height  of  the  affair,  when  it  was  doubtful  what 
might  come  of  it. 

While  I  reasoned  about  the  disfavour  and  exile  of  others 
it  was  time,  and  more  than  time,  to  attend  to  my  own  in  the 
Conversation  of      painful   situation   in.  which   I   now  stood.     I 

Mme.  de  Saint-  i  i  i  c  •  ^ 

Simon  with  the      thought  uo  louger  ot  gomg  to  Guyenne,  and 

Duchessede  f^^    ^^^^   ^^  ^-^^    ^^^    ^f    j^^    -p^^^     ^-^^^^ 

Bourgogne  on  my  ^  '  ■' 

situation.  intention  was  to  pass  several  years.     But  be- 

fore making  this  move  we  thought  it  was  wise  to  take  certain 
measures. 

Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  had  never  entered  on  any  of  our 
private  affairs  with  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  but  she  had 
always  been  treated  by  her  on  a  footing  of  esteem,  friendship, 
and  distinction.  "We  knew  also  that  the  princess  wanted 
her  in  the  place  of  the  Duchesse  du  Lude  if  the  latter,  who 
was  old  and  gouty,  should  fail,  and  we  could  not  doubt 
that  she  would.  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  therefore  sought  a 
conversation  with  her  alone,  in  her  cabinet  one  morning, 
in  order  to  discover  through  her  the  cause  of  the  position 
in  which  I  now   stood,  and  the  means,  if  any  there  were, 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THP:  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  149 

to  remedy  it  before  taking  the  final  steps  to  execute  our 
project. 

She  was  received  personally  with  all  possible  interest  and 
kindness,  but  with  marked  coldness  as  to  me ;  nor  was  the 
princess  unwilling  to  give  the  reason  for  it.  She  told  Mme. 
de  Saint-Simon  that  she  had  heard  how  extremely  opposed  I 
had  been  to  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  during  the  campaign  in 
Flanders,  and  that  I  had  not  restrauied  myself  from  express- 
ing it.  The  surprise  of  Mme.  de  Saiat-Simon  was  all  the 
greater  because  the  princess  knew  the  whole  that  had  passed 
on  that  subject,  through  Mme.  de  ISTogaret,  and  even  from 
M.  de  Beauvillier.s  ;  nor  was  it  possible  that  the  Due  de 
Bourgogne  had  never  himself  told  her  how  satisfied  he  was 
with  me  on  that  score.  But  the  princess  was  volatile,  easily 
a  prey  to  any  one,  and  there  were  honest  folk  at  Court  who 
had  destroyed  in  the  course  of  the  winter  all  that  had  come 
of  that  strange  campaign.  I  will  return  to  these  kind  offices 
in  a  moment. 

Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  exclaimed  at  the  thought ;  reminded 
her  of  what  I  have  just  referred  to ;  begged  her  to  question 
M.  de  Beauvilliers,  with  whom  she  had  been  in  close  rela- 
tions during  that  long  campaign,  and  also  the  Due  d'Orl^ans, 
for  whom  she  cared  much,  and  with  whom  I  had  exchanged 
letters  continually  during  that  period,  and  was  now  so  inti- 
mately allied. 

These  answers  made  an  impression.  The  princess  opened 
herself  still  further  as  Mme.  do  Saint-Simon  went  on  to  tell 
her  very  strong  and  ])recise  faiits  in  the  matter,  and  to  make 
li(!r  HOC,  thill  tli(;  c.iibal  oi  M.  do  VundOnic,  not  licing  iiMc  (o 
do  worse,  had  spread  thin  falsehood  about  mo  to  avenge  itself 
for  my  freedom  and  vigour  in  acting  iigainst  it,  —  a  falsehood 
('.ontrary  to  (everything  which  all  (he  Oourt  had  witnessed. 
Slu',  Jiddrd  that  Mgr.  le  Due  de  I'ourgogne  was  well  aware  of 


150  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.      [chap.v. 

my  active  conduct  in  this  respect,  which  had  drawn  these  dan- 
gerous enemies  on  me,  and  that  he  would  be  most  distressed 
if  she  were  the  only  one  not  convinced  of  it  after  hearing 
and  knowing  from  Mme.  de  Kogaret  the  extreme  interest 
that  I  had  felt  in  his  cause.  The  same  volatility  which 
estranged  her  now  brought  her  easily  back  to  a  remem- 
brance of  all  that  others  had  wiped  from  her  mind ;  and 
results  showed  us  that  those  false  impressions  were  effaced 
from  her  memory  permanently. 

She  then  told  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  that  I  had  powerful 
enemies,  and  a  number  of  them,  who  lost  no  occasion  to 
injure  me  ;  they  had  greatly  magnified  to  the  king  my  at- 
tachment to  my  dignity ;  they  accused  me  of  blaming  him 
for  all  that  he  did,  and  for  speaking  ill  on  public  matters. 
She  said  that  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  stood  well  with  the  king, 
that  he  esteemed  and  considered  her,  but  that  he  had  con- 
ceived a  great  opposition  to  me,  which  time  and  very  wise 
and  cautious  conduct  could  alone  diminish ;  that  persons 
said  I  had  much  more  intelligence,  knowledge,  and  views 
than  ordinary  people  ;  that  everybody  feared  me  and  watched 
me ;  that  they  saw  me  allied  to  persons  in  office,  where,  it 
was  feared,  I  should  soon  be  myself ;  and  that  they  could 
not  endure  my  haughtiness  and  my  freedom  in  expressing 
myself  about  people  and  things  in  a  manner  that  carried  the 
day ;  and  finally,  that  my  reputation  for  integrity  made  all 
this  the  more  oppressive. 

Mme,  de  Saint-Simon  thanked  her  very  much  for  thus 
entering  fully  into  the  matter,  and  replied  very  neatly  that 
as  there  was  nothing  essential  to  blame  in  my  conduct  nor 
in  the  current  of  my  life,  persons  were  forced  to  attack  me 
with  commonplace  generahties,  which,  by  their  vagueness, 
might  suit  any  one  they  wished  to  destroy.  Mme.  de  Saint- 
Simon  had  the  prudence  not  to  tell  me  for  a  long  time  what 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  151 

she  learned  from  this  conversation  of  the  strength  of  the 
king's  opposition  to  ine,  in  order  not  to  increase  my  disgust 
for  the  Court,  which  I  longed  to  abandon  forever.  I  was  sen- 
sitive to  the  blackness  of  the  calumny  about  my  feelings  to 
the  Due  de  Bourgogne,  and  that  alone  made  me  more  de- 
termined than  ever  to  get  away  from  such  open  scoundrels. 
I  thought  of  nothing  else  now  than  going  to  La  Fertd. 

I  have  enlarged  upon  this  conversation,  because  nothing 
can  paint  both  the  king  and  Court  better  than  what  was  said 
to  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  by  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne. 
The  fear  and  aversion  of  so  great  a  king  for  mind  and  knowl- 
edge above  the  common,  which,  for  want  of  a  better  reason, 
were  made  a  crime  in  me,  were  so  worked  upon  from  time 
to  time  that  those  qualities  did  me  more  harm  than  others 
really  bad  and  dangerous  would  have  done.  Even  the 
reputation  of  integrity  injured  me  with  him  from  the  turn 
they  gave  to  it ;  and  those  who  knew  him  well  and  wished 
to  ruin  me  without  having  any  grounds,  found  that  exag- 
gerated praises  of  mind  and  knowledge  and  the  weight  given 
by  integrity  fulfilled  their  purpose.  The  friendship  and 
confidence  shown  to  me  by  the  principal  ministers,  and  the 
most  distinguished  and  respected  seigneurs,  and  those  nearest 
to  the  king's  confidence,  was  another  demerit  in  his  eyes,  so 
that  all  that  ought  to  have  pleased  him  in  these  respects,  and 
have  given  him  a  good  opinion  of  me,  only  resulted  in 
making  his  estrangement  the  greater.  And  who  were  they 
who  breathed  this  poison  into  him  ?  First,  M.  du  Elaine 
and  d'Antin,  tlio  two  men  at  his  Court  with  the  most  mind 
and  the  most  views.  M.  du  Maine  was  the  soul  of  the 
VendOme  cabal,  and  had  never  pardoned  me  for  my  attach- 
ment to  the  Due  do  Bourgogne.  ITo  and  Mme.  du  Mnino 
had  not  forgotten  the  vain  clInitM  (licy  had  niinlc  lo  draw 
mc  to  llicii-  Ikiii.sc  ;  mid   I'roiM   llial.  inoiiiciil  they  feared  for 


152  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.      [chap.  t. 

their  rank.  Hence  the  blame  imputed  to  me  with  the 
king  of  being  so  attached  to  my  dignity ;  hence  the  hatred 
of  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  who  was  thenceforth  my  constant 
and  most  dangerous  enemy. 

Mme.  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  who  wanted  to  conceal 
that  fact,  let  sUp,  in  what  she  said  to  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon, 
that  she  would  try  herself  with  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  and 
profit  by  all  occasions  to  reconcile  me  with  the  king.  She 
knew,  better  than  she  said,  that  Jime.  de  Maintenon  was  the 
greatest  obstacle.  Chamillart  knew  it  too  when  he  saw  me 
ill  with  the  king  for  having  quitted  the  army,  and  when  he 
tried  to  heal  matters  and  have  me  recalled  to  Marly.  He 
had  many  and  frequent  disputes  about  it  with  Mme.  de 
Maintenon,  with  whom,  at  that  time,  he  was  in  the  closest 
intimacy.  It  was  long  before  he  could  induce  her,  not  to 
change  her  mind  about  me,  for  that  she  never  did,  but  not 
to  oppose  my  return  to  Marly,  and  to  cease  to  injure  me. 
I  suspected  she  was  not  favourable  to  me,  though  I  scarcely 
knew  why;  but  as  for  her  hatred,  I  never  knew  that  till 
after  the  death  of  the  king,  when  Chamillart  one  day  asked 
me  what  I  had  ever  done  to  that  witch  to  make  her  hate 
me  so  much ;  and  then  he  told  for  the  first  time  what  I  have 
just  related. 


VI 


The  dearness  of  everything,  bread  especially,  had  caused 
frequent  tumults  in  all  the  different  parts  of  the  kingdom. 
The  dearness  Paris  had  oftcn  felt  them;  and  although 
and^w^L^t  ^f^ '  nearly  half  as  many  more  troops  than  usual 
^'■^^'^-  had  been  kept  there  to  guard  the  markets  and 

suspected  places,  this  precaution  had  not  prevented  various 
disorders,  in  several  of  which  d'Argenson,  lieutenant  of 
pohce,  had  run  some  risk  of  life. 

Monseigneur,  coming  and  returning  from  the  Opera,  had 
more  than  once  been  assailed  by  the  populace  and  by  women 
in  great  numbers,  crying  for  "  bread ! "  until  at  last  he  was 
frightened  in  the  midst  of  his  guards,  who  dared  not  dis- 
perse them  for  fear  of  worse.  He  had  got  out  of  it  once  or 
twice  by  throwing  them  money  and  promising  wonders,  but 
as  the  wonders  did  not  follow  he  no  longer  dared  to  go  to 
Paris. 

The  king  himself  lieard  pretty  loud  noises  through  his 
window,  from  the  people  of  Versailles  who  were  shouting  in 
the  streets.  Talk  was  bold  and  frequent,  complaints  bitter 
and  little  restrained  against  the  government  and  against  his 
own  person  in  the  streets  and  open  spaces,  wlierc  some  per- 
sons exhorted  otliers  not  to  be  so  long-sufrering,  saying  that 
nothing  could  hapjicii  worse  to  them  than  to  die  of  Ininger, 
as  tluiy  were  now  doing.  To  divert  their  niiiid.s,  idlers  and 
j)aupcr8  were  employed  to  level  a  great  mound  of  earth  which 
liJid  been  left  on  tl»o  boulevard  between  the  Portes  Saiut- 
hcriis    and    Saint-Martin;    i'or    which    work    lnul   brc;it|    was 


154  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  vi. 

distributed  to  the  labourers  for  their  only  pay,  and  that  in 
small  quantities  to  each. 

It  happened  that  on  a  Tuesday  morning,  August  20th, 
bread  was  lacking  for  the  greater  number.  One  woman, 
among  others,  cried  out  loudly,  which  excited  the  rest ; 
the  archers  seized  her  and,  very  indiscreetly,  put  her  into 
a  pillory  that  was  close  at  hand.  In  a  moment  all  the 
labourers  rose,  dragged  her  from  the  pillory,  ran  through 
the  streets  and  pillaged  the  bakers  and  confectioners.  The 
shops  were  closed  hastily.  The  tumult  swelled,  the  crowd 
filled  all  the  adjoining  streets,  without  domg  harm  to  any 
one,  but  crying  aloud  for  "  bread !  bread  ! "  and  taking  it 
everywhere. 

Mardchal  de  Boufflers,  thinking  of  nothing  of  the  kind, 
had  gone  that  morning  to  Berenger,  his  notary,  who  lived 
in  that  neighbourhood.  Surprised  at  the  terror  he  found 
there  and  learning  its  cause,  he  wished  to  go  himself  and 
try  to  pacify  the  people,  in  spite  of  all  that  the  Due  de 
Grammont,  who  had  gone  to  the  same  notar}',  could  say  to 
prevent  it ;  finding  him  resolved,  the  latter  went  with  him. 
A  hundred  steps  away  from  the  notary's  door  they  met 
the  Mar^chal  d'Huxelles  in  his  coach  and  stopped  him 
to  ask  news,  because  he  was  coming  from  the  direction  of 
the  tumult.  He  told  them  it  was  nothing,  and  tried  to 
prevent  them  from  going  on ;  as  for  himself,  he  cleared  off 
like  a  man  who  hated  noise  and  to  be  thrust  into  an  uproar. 
The  marechal  and  his  father-in-law  continued  their  way ; 
finding  as  they  advanced  much  terror,  and  persons  calhng 
to  them  from  the  windows  to  go  no  further  or  they  would 
certainly  be  struck  down. 

Wlien  they  reached  the  upper  end  of  the  rue  Saint-Denis, 
the  crowd  and  the  tumult  made  the  marechal  think  it  was 
time  to  get  out  of  his  carriage.     He  therefore  advanced  on 


1700]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  155 

foot,  with  the  Due  de  Grammont,  into  the  midst  of  the 
furious  people ;  the  mardchal  asking  what  was  the  matter, 
why  such  noise,  promising  bread,  and  speaking  to  them  as 
best  he  could,  v/ith  gentleness  and  firmness,  and  telling  them 
that  that  was  not  the  way  they  ought  to  ask  for  it.  He 
was  listened  to ;  shouts  arose  on  all  sides  of  "  Vive  le 
Marechal  de  Boufflers ! "  who  still  advanced  among  the 
crowd,  speaking  his  best.  He  thus  walked  with  the  Due 
de  Grammont  the  whole  length  of  the  rue  aux  Ours  and 
the  adjoinmg  streets,  until  he  reached  the  very  centre  of 
the  riot.  The  people  prayed  him  to  represent  to  the  king 
their  misery  and  get  them  bread.  He  promised  it,  and  on 
his  word  the  crowd  was  pacified  and  dispersed  with  thanks 
and  more  acclamations  of  "  Vive  le  Marechal  de  Boufflers  ! " 
This  was  indeed  a  veritable  service.  Argenson  was  march- 
ing in  with  a  detachment  of  the  regiment  of  the  French 
guards  and  one  of  the  Suisses,  and  if  it  had  not  been  for 
the  marshal's  action  blood  would  have  been  shed,  and 
things  might  have  gone  very  far.  They  were  even 
mounting  the  mousquetaires. 

The  mardchal  had  scarcely  entered  his  own  house  in 
the  Place  Eoyale  when  he  was  notified  that  the  sedition 
was  greater  still  in  the  Faubourg  Saint-Antoine.  He 
hurried  there  with  the  Due  de  Grammont  and  pacified  it 
as  he  did  the  otlier.  He  returned  home  to  eat  a  mouthful, 
and  went  off  to  Versailles ;  he  would  take  only  his  post- 
chaise,  one  footman  behind  and  one  person  on  horseback 
as  far  as  the  (Jours;  clioosing  to  cross  all  Paris  in  that  way. 
lie  was  hardly  out  of  the  Place  Eoyalo  when  iho.  people  in 
the  streets  and  iti  the  shops  began  to  cry  to  him  to  have 
pity  upon  them,  to  get  them  bread,  and  always:  "Vivo  M. 
le  IVfaieehal  (le  HoiilllerM  ! "  Tliey  accompanied  him  thus 
to   the  (|iiay   of  I. he.    liOiivre. 


156  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,    [chap.  vi. 

When  he  reached  Versailles  he  went  straight  to  Mme. 
de  Maintenon's  apartments,  where  he  found  her  with  the 
king,  both  in  great  trouble.  He  told  what  brought  him  and 
received  many  thanks.  The  king  offered  him  the  command 
of  Paris,  troops,  bourgeoisie,  police,  etc. ;  but  the  generous 
marshal  prefeiTed  the  re-estabUshment  of  things  in  their 
natural  way  to  this  honour.  He  told  the  king  that  Paris 
had  a  governor  whom  he  would  not  rob  of  the  functions 
that  belonged  to  him  ;  that  it  was  shameful  how  few 
remained  to  him  since  the  lieutenant  of  police  and  the 
provost  of  the  merchants  had  filched  them  all  or  shared 
them,  even  to  the  command  of  the  troops,  and  he  advised 
the  king  to  take  advantage  of  these  moments  of  alarm  to 
return  those  powers  to  the  Due  de  Tresmes,  who  had  so 
completely  lost  them,  like  his  immediate  predecessors,  that 
a  new  patent  would  have  to  be  issued  to  secure  his 
authority. 

It  was  therefore  enjoined  on  the  troops  and  bourgeois  to 
receive  no  orders  except  from  the  governor,  but  to  obey  him 
in  all  things  and  everywhere.  The  Due  de  Tresmes  was 
sent  to  Paris  to  exercise  his  powers,  but  with  orders  to  do 
nothing  without  consulting  the  Mardchal  de  Boufflers,  to 
whom  d'Argenson,  Bignon,  provost  of  the  merchants,  the 
bourgeoisie,  and  the  troops  were  also  subjected,  but  by  verbal 
orders ;  and  the  mar^chal  was  immediately  sent  back  to  hve 
in  Paris.  His  modesty  won  him  fresh  lustre ;  he  gave  the 
credit  of  everything  to  the  Due  de  Tresmes,  in  whose  name 
and  by  whose  order  all  was  done,  and  to  whom  he  went  for 
consultations,  seldom  allowuig  them  to  take  place  in  his  own 
house.  Master  and  tutor  in  reahty  of  the  Due  de  Tresmes, 
and  the  real  commander,  he  called  himself  his  aide-de-camp, 
and  behaved  as  if  he  were.  Immediately  after  this,  bread 
was  carefully  provided.     Paris  was  filled  with  patrols,  rather 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  157 

too  many  perhaps,  but  who  managed  matters  so  well  that  no 
further  trouble  was  heard  of. 

The  autumn  of  this  year  was  the  last  which  saw  the 

famous  monastery  of  Port-Royal  des  Champs  still  standing ; 

after   beinc;   so   Ions;   the  abomination  of  the 

Port-Royal  ;  *-'  ^ 

Moiinismand        Jesuits  it  was  finally  their  victim.     I  shall  not 

Jansenism.  ...  -, 

enlarge  upon  the  origm,  progress,  and  events 
of  a  dispute  and  a  quarrel  so  well  known,  nor  upon  the  two 
parties,  Molinist  and  Jansenist,  whose  dogmatical  and  his- 
torical writings  v/ould  fill  a  numerous  library,  and  whose 
energies  were  displayed  for  so  many  years  in  Eome  and  at 
our  own  Court.  I  shall  content  myself  with  a  very  short 
epitome,  which  will  suffice  for  the  understanding  of  the 
powerful  interest  which  moved  such  mighty  machinery ; 
because  the  facts  which  ought  to  take  their  rightful  place 
in  the  record  of  what  happened  must  not  be  suppressed. 

The  ineffable  and  incomprehensible  mystery  of  grace,  as 
little  within  the  reach  of  our  intelligence  and  explanation 
as  that  of  the  Trinity,  has  been  a  stone  of  stumbling  to 
the  Church  ever  since  the  doctrine  of  Saint  Augustine  on 
this  mystery  w-as  controverted,  as  soon  as  it  appeared,  by  the 
priests  of  Marseilles.  Saint  Thomas  [Aquinas]  supported 
it,  as  did  the  most  enlightened  personages ;  the  Church  has 
adopted  it  in  her  general  councils,  and  more  especially  the 
Church  of  Rome  and  the  popes. 

Decisions  so  venerable  and  so  in  keeping  with  the  con- 
demnation made  and  reiterated,  by  the  same  authorities,  of 
the  (]octrine  of  the  Pclngians  and  tlic  somi-roliigians,  have 
not,  prevented  a  succession  of  votaries  of  tlio  op])ositc  doc- 
IriiicH,  who,  not  daring  to  present  themselves  full^front,  have 
taken  all  sorts  of  forms  in  order  to  conceal  themselves  like 
the  ."enii-Arians  of  other  days. 

In  later  times,  the  Jesuits,  masters  of  nil  Courts  as  being 


158  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  vi. 

the  confessors  of  nearly  all  the  kings  and  Catholic  sovereigns, 
and  of  almost  the  whole  pubhc  through  their  instruction 
of  youth,  and  by  their  talents  and  their  art;  necessary  to 
Rome,  in  order  to  insinuate  her  pretensions  to  temporal 
sovereignty  and  her  empire  over  the  spiritual,  to  the  extinc- 
tion of  the  episcopate  and  the  councils-general ;  the  Jesuits, 
now  become  formidable  by  their  power  and  by  their  wealth 
(wholly  employed  on  their  designs) ;  authorized  by  theu- 
knowledge  of  all  kinds  and  by  their  power  of  insinuation 
everywhere ;  amiable  through  easy  accommodation  and 
sophistries  never  before  encountered  in  the  tribunal  of 
repentance ;  protected  by  Rome  as  men  devoted  by  a  fourth 
vow  to  the  pope,  pecuhar  to  their  society  and  more  adapted 
than  all  others  to  extend  his  supreme  domain ;  recommend- 
able  moreover  for  the  hardness  of  their  lives  wholly  con- 
secrated to  study  and  to  the  defence  of  the  Church  against 
heretics,  and  for  the  sanctity  of  their  establishment  and  of 
their  earliest  fathers ;  terrible,  through  their  subtle  and  pro- 
found pohcy ;  superior  to  every  consideration  except  that  of 
their  own  dominating  power ;  governed  by  a  rule  of  which 
monarchy,  authority,  rank,  intrigue,  secrecy,  uniformity  in 
its  views,  multiplicity  in  its  means  are  the  "^dtal  spirit,  — 
the  Jesuits,  I  say,  after  divers  tentatives,  and  especially  after 
subjugating  the  schools  beyond  the  frontier  and  enervating 
as  much  as  they  could  those  within  our  borders,  risked  the 
putting  forth,  in  a  book  by  their  Pere  Mohua,  of  a  doctrine 
of  grace  that  was  wholly  opposed  to  that  of  Sauit  Augustine, 
Saint  Thomas,  all  the  Fathers  and  councils-general,  the  pope 
and  the  Church  at  Rome,  which  latter,  though  several  times 
ready  to  anathematize  it,  has  always  delayed  doing  so.  The 
Church  of  France,  more  particularly,  revolted  against  these 
agreeable  novelties  which  made  so  many  conquests  through 
the  facility  of  salvation  and  the  pride  of  the  human  heart. 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  159 

The  Jesuits,  hampered  by  a  difficult  defence,  found  means 
to  sow  discord  in  the  schools  of  France,  and  by  a  thousand 
tricks  of  suppleness,  policy  and  open  force,  and  finally  by  the 
support  of  the  Court,  contrived  to  change  the  face  of  matters. 
They  invented  a  heresy,  which  had  neither  author  nor 
votary,  and  they  attributed  it  to  a  book  by  Cornelius 
Jansenius,  bishop  of  Spr^s,  deceased  in  the  bosom  of  the 
Church  and  in  veneration ;  thus  making  themselves  accusers 
instead  of  the  defendants  that  they  were,  and  their  adver- 
saries (really  their  accusers)  the  defendants.  Hence  the 
names  of  Molinist  and  Jansenist  which  distinguish  the  two 
parties. 

Great  and  long  debates  followed  over  this  imaginary 
heresy,  brought  to  light,  or  rather  invented,  by  the  Jesuits 
The  famous  con-  iu  Order  to  make  the  adversaries  of  Molina 
clave  De  auxUus.  ^o^e  grouud ;  and  much  discussion  was  had 
before  a  conclave  formed  for  the  express  purpose  and  called 
De  auxiliis,  which  held  a  number  of  sessions  before  Clement 
VIII.  (Aldobrandini)  and  Paul  V.  (Borghese),  who,  having 
already  drawn  up  a  decree  of  anathema  against  the  doctrine 
of  Molina,  dared  not  publish  it,  and  contented  themselves 
with  not  condemning  the  doctrine,  at  the  same  time  not  ap- 
proving it ;  and  consoling  the  Jesuits  with  flattery  about  this 
imaginary  heresy  supported  by  no  one,  but  out  of  which  the 
Company  knew  well  how  to  profit. 

Many  saintly  and  learned  persons  had  from  time  to  time, 
and  one  after  another,  retired  to  the  Abl)ey  of  Port-Koyal 
dcs  Champs.  Souk;  of  tluiiii  wrote  there;  others  assembU'd 
youths,  to  whom  tln^y  tmiglit  the  sciences  and  piety.  'J'lm 
finest  works  of  morality,  those  which  have  most  onlightcnetl 
the  study  of  knowledge,  and  llic  ytractico  of  religion,  issued 
from  Uicir  li.'inds,  mid  such  :dl  I, he,  world  lias  iiroiuniiited 
Ihc.ni   to  be. 


160  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,    [chap.vi. 

These  gentlemen  had  friends  and  intimate  connections; 
they  entered  into  the  discussion  against  Mohnism.  This 
was  enough  to  add  to  the  jealousy  already  conceived  by 
the  Jesuits  for  this  dawning  school  an  irreconcilable  hatred ; 
out  of  which  grew  the  persecution  of  the  Jausenists,  of  the 
Sorbonne,  of  M.  Arnauld,  considered  the  master  of  them  all, 
and  the  dispersion  of  the  recluses  at  Port-Koyal.  Hence 
came  also  the  introduction  of  a  formulary  (a  thing  so  often 
fatal  and  so  often  proscribed  by  the  Church)  in  which  the 
new  heresy,  put  forth  and  sustained  by  nobody,  was  not  only 
proscribed,  —  which  everybody  would  have  agreed  to  without 
any  difficulty,  —  but  was  declared  to  be  contained  in  a  book 
entitled  "  Augustinus,"  wiitten  by  Cornelius  Jansenius, 
bishop  of  Spr^s  ;  and  to  tliis  formulary  it  was  necessary  to 
swear  a  hteral  and  inward  behef  in  its  contents. 

The  rule,  that  is  to  say,  the  proscription  of  the  five 
heretical  propositions  (which  nobody  maintained)  caused 
no  difficulty;  but  the  fact,  namely,  that  those  propositions 
were  contained  in  the  book  of  Jansenius,  made  immense 
difficulties.  Never  did  any  one  contrive  to  extract  a  single 
one  of  them  from  that  book.  This  difficulty  was  met  by 
saying  they  were  so  diffused  that  none  could  be  cited ;  nor 
were  they.  To  swear  upon  your  God  and  soul  to  believe 
what  you  do  not  believe  to  be  founded  on  fact,  and  wliich 
those  vv^ho  propose  to  you  to  beheve  it  cannot  show  to  you, 
seemed  a  crime  to  all  honest  men.  A  very  great  indignation 
burst  forth  as  soon  as  the  formulary  appeared. 

But  what  was  most  intolerable  of  all,  in  order  to  destroy 
Port-Eoyal,  which  it  was  rightly  judged  would  never  bring 
itself  to  take  that  oath,  it  was  proposed  to  make  all  nuns 
throughout  the  kingdom  sign  it.  Xow  to  propose  to  swear 
that  a  fact  is  contained  in  a  book  you  have  never  read  —  in  a 
book,  too,  which  you  never  can  read,  because  it  is  written  in 


1709]  MEMOIKS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  161 

Latin  and  you  do  not  know  that  language  —  is  a  violence 
beyond  example  ;  and  yet  this  violence  actually  fdled  the 
provinces  with  exiles,  the  prisons  and  the  monasteries  with 
captives. 

Such  excesses  at  length  aroused  a  few  bishops,  who  wrote 
to  the  pope,  and  so  exposed  themselves  to  deposition,  the 
The  peace  of  ^^^t  steps  to  whicli  Were  already  taken  when 
Clement  IX.  ^^iQ  greater  number  of  their  episcopal  brethren 

came  to  their  assistance  and  sustained  the  same  cause. 
Then  Eome  and  the  king  feared  a  schism.  Other  bishops 
interposed.  The  negotiation  ended  in  what  was  called  the 
peace  of  Clement  IX.  (Eospigliosi)  which  declared  authenti- 
cally that  the  Holy  See  did  not  intend  and  never  had  in- 
tended that  the  signing  of  the  formulary  obhged  any  one  to 
beheve  that  the  five  condemned  propositions  were  implicitly 
or  explicitly  in  the  book  of  Jansenius ;  it  only  required  that 
all  should  condemn  them  as  heretical  in  whatever  book  or 
place  they  might  be  found.  This  "  peace  "  restored  liberty 
and  the  sacraments  to  all  persons  who  had  been  deprived  of 
them,  and  it  also  restored  to  their  places  professors  and 
others  who  had  been  driven  out  of  them. 

I  shall  not  say  more,  because  the  little  I  have  now  ex- 
plained suffices  for  an  understanding  of  what  is  to  follow. 
I  shall  continue  to  use  the  words  Jansenist  and  Jansenism, 
Molinist  and  Molinism,  for  the  purpose  of  abridgment. 

The  Jesuits  and  their  faithful  were  indignant  at  this 
peace,  whi(di  all  their  efforts  here  and  in  Ivome  could  not 
prevent.  They  managed,  however,  to  cleverly  fool  the  minds 
of  people  about  Jansenism  and  Molinism,  and  instead  of 
being  on  their  defence,  they  again  became  the  aggressors. 
The  Jansonists,  while  dfifending  thoniHclvos  about  the  live 
jiroposilions  which  nobody  believed,  and  about  the  fact  in 
the  formulary,  had  novor  let  go  of  the  doctriuo  of  Molina, 


162  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap,  vi 

nor  of  the  evils  that  must  follow  that  moral ;  which  the 
famous  Pascal  made  equally  palpable  and  ridiculous  in  the 
doctrine  and  practice  of  the  Jesuits,  in  those  able  letters 
so  well  known  under  the  title  of  "  Lettres  Proviuciales." 
Bitterness  and  hatred  continued,  war  was  perpetuated  by 
writings,  and  the  Jesuits  fortified  themselves  more  and  more 
in  the  various  Courts,  hoping  to  overwhelm  their  adversaries, 
and  drive  them  and  all  suspected  persons  from  places  in  the 
Church  and  schools. 

In  these  quarrels  Pfere  Tellier  played  a  double  part.  He 
was,  as  I  have  said,  a  violent  man,  whose  divinity  was  his 
Molinism  and  the  authority  of  his  Company.  He  saw  a  fine 
chance  before  him :  a  king,  very  ignorant  on  such  matters, 
who  had  never  Hstened  to  anything  on  the  subject  except 
from  the  Jesuits  and  their  adherents  ;  supremely  attached  to 
his  authority  and  persuaded  by  them  that  the  Jansenists 
were  its  enemies  ;  a  king  who  wanted  to  be  saved,  and  who, 
knowing  nothing  of  religion,  had  satisfied  liimself  all  his  hfe 
by  domg  his  repentance  on  the  backs  of  others,  and  was 
dehghted  to  do  it  on  that  of  Jansenists  and  Huguenots, 
whom  he  thought  much  the  same  and  equally  heretics ;  a 
king  surrounded  by  persons  as  ignorant  as  himself  and  as 
full  of  prejudices,  hke  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  MM.  de  Beau- 
villiers  and  de  Chevreuse,  the  Saint-Sulpicians,  and  the  late 
Bishop  of  Chartres;  or  by  courtiers  and  head-valets  who 
knew  no  more  than  he,  or  if  they  did,  thought  only  of  their 
own  f ortmies ;  or  else  by  a  clergy  long  degraded  by  the 
Bishop  of  Chartres,  who  had  larded  the  episcopate  with 
ignorant  and  unknown  men  of  low  birth  who  regarded 
the  pope  as  a  divinity  and  held  in  horror  the  maxims  of 
the  Church  of  France,  because  all  antiquity  was  unknown  to 
them  and  because,  being  men  of  nothing,  they  had  no  true 
sense  of  the  State ;  and  finally,  by  a  parliament  muzzled  and 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG   DE  SAINT-SIMON.  163 

trembling,  long  accustomed  to  servitude,  the  few  members 
of  which  who  by  their  position  and  their  capacity  might 
have  spoken  out  being  either  bigots,  like  their  president 
Pelletier  or  hungry  after  favours. 

There  remained,  however,  a  few  persons  whom  the  Jesuits 
feared,  at  least  for  their  enterprises,  like  the  Cardinals 
d'Estrdes,  Janson,  and  Noailles,  and  the  chancellor;  the 
latter  was,  as  I  have  said  elsewhere,  tired  out,  of  which  Pere 
Tellier  was  aware ;  Estrdes  was  old  and  a  courtier,  Janson, 
also,  and,  more  than  that,  failing  in  health.  Noailles  was 
different,  in  all  respects;  he  was,  moreover,  in  the  closest 
relations  with  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  powerful  at  Court  through 
the  liking  of  the  king,  through  his  family,  and  the  sustained 
reputation  of  his  life  and  conduct ;  he  was  also  archbishop  of 
Paris,  and  held  in  veneration  by  his  diocese,  and  by  the  clergy, 
at  the  head  of  whom  he  stood  throuohout  the  kingdom.  He 
was  eminently  objectionable  to  the  Jesuits  for  his  doctrine, 
which,  though  not  suspicious,  was  not  theirs,  and  for  having 
been  appointed  to  Chalons  and  then  to  Paris  without  their 
participation,  and  more  than  that,  promoted  to  the  purple. 
They  knew  the  Jansenists  were  not  content  with  him,  be- 
cause he  had  never  given  in  to  their  views,  and  that  he  was 
still  less  content  with  them  since  he  had  discovered  the 
author  of  the  famous  "Case  of  Conscience."  Pore  Tellier, 
well  anchored  by  this  time  near  the  king,  resolved  to  embroil 
Cardinal  do  Noailles  with  the  king  on  one  side  and  tlie 
JanHonists  on  the  other  and  at  the  same  time  complete  the 
work  at  wliich  the  Jesuits  liad  toiled  so  many  years  by 
the  total  destruction  of  Port-Royal  des  Champs. 

Pfere  de  La  Chaise  had  contented  liimsclf,  aftor  the  peace 
of  Clement  TX.  had  rc-establislicd  these  ninis,  witli  prevents 
ing  them  from  receiving  any  girls  as  posLidants,  in  order  that 
tlie    house   might    perish   by   oxtiuctiou    without   resort   to 


164  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap,  vl 

violence.  We  have  seen  by  what  the  king  said  to  Mar^chal, 
after  the  latter's  journey  to  Port-Eoyal,  that  he  repented 
having  allowed  them  to  be  pushed  too  far,  and  that  in  the 
main  he  regarded  them  as  saintly  women.  His  new  con- 
fessor contrived  in  a  very  short  time  to  change  his  ideas. 

A  new  constitution  now  appeared  in  Eome,  the  result  of 
the  efforts  of  the  Molinists,  always  on  the  watch  to  entangle 
Bull  vineam  matters,  and  ardent  in  searching  for  means  to 

Domini  sabaoth.  jisturb  the  peacc  of  Clement  IX.  Eome, 
which  has  ever  treated  them  cautiously  as  the  athletes  of  the 
claims  of  ultramontanism  (to  which  she  has  so  often  sacri- 
ficed the  nations),  gave  out  a  constitution  ambiguous  against 
Jansenism,  lightly  touching  it,  and  done  with  some  clever- 
ness in  the  interests  of  those  who  were  attached  to  the  peace 
of  Clement  IX.,  and  who  could,  without  offence  to  themselves, 
receive  tliis  constitution,  which  was  ia  other  respects  perfectly 
useless.  The  Molinists  were  disconsolate  at  obtaining  noth- 
ing better  than  so  feeble  an  instrument,  which  really  did  no 
more  than  proscribe  the  five  propositions  already  proscribed, 
which  no  one  had  ever  defended.  But,  as  always  happens 
in  long  disputes  in  which  the  secular  power  takes  sides  and 
proceeds  to  persecution,  minds  grew  heated,  and  from  one 
thing  to  another  the  discussion  passed  all  bounds. 

Pfere  Telher  resolved  to  make  use  of  this  new  constitution, 
for  want  of  a  better,  in  the  hope  of  getting  something  out  of 
it  against  Port-Eoyal,  more  sensitive  than  others  on  the 
subject  of  Jansenism,  and  to  entangle  the  Cardinal  de 
Noailles,  by  making  the  king  command  him  to  have  the 
constitution  signed.  As  it  did  not  interfere  essentially  with 
the  peace  of  Clement  IX.,  the  cardinal  dared  not  object,  and 
began  by  having  it  signed  first  by  those  who  were  easiest  to 
manage,  and  then,  from  one  to  another,  winning  over  the 
rest. 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF   THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  165 

This  method  of  proceeding  succeeded  so  well  that  even  Gif 
signed.  Gif  is  an  abbey  of  nuns,  five  or  six  leagues  from 
Versailles,  which  has  always  been  considered  by  friends  and 
enemies  as  the  younger  sister  of  Port-Royal  des  Champs ;  and 
the  two  houses  have  at  all  times  preserved  the  closest  union 
with  each  other. 

With  this  signature  the  cardinal  thought  himself  strong, 

feeling   sure   that   Port-Royal   would    make   no    difficulties. 

He  was  mistaken.     These  nuns,  so  often  and  so 

Port- Royal  des 

Champs  refuses     cruclly  maltreated,  on  their  guard  against  spe- 
o  sign  1 .  cious  signatures  repeatedly  demanded  of  them, 

in  a  soUtude  ceaselessly  watched  and  scarcely  approached 
without  danger  of  exile  and  even  of  prison,  consequently 
deprived  of  all  outside  counsel,  could  not  be  brought  to 
sign  the  constitution.  No  one  who  appealed  to  them  could 
move  them,  not  even  the  nuns  of  Gif.  In  vain  the  cardinal 
exhorted;  explaining  to  them  that  what  was  required  did 
not  attack  in  any  way  the  peace  of  Clement  IX.,  or  the 
truths  to  which  they  were  attached ;  nothing  could  remove 
the  fears  of  these  saintly  and  timorous  souls.  They  could 
not  believe  that  a  new  signature  did  not  cover  some  venom- 
ous trap,  and  their  courage  was  not  shaken  by  the  thought 
of  the  threatened  evils  their  refusal  would  bring  upon  them. 

This  was  precisely  what  the  Jesuits  hoped ;  namely,  to 
involve  the  Cardinal  de  Noaillcs,  and  succeed  through  him 
in  destroying  a  house  they  detested,  and  whose  ruin  they 
had  never  fur  so  many  years  ceased  to  machinate.  They 
were  dying  of  fear  lest  the  remaining  nuns  should  survive 
III'!  king,  and  l,Iiiit  iil'ldr  his  WW',  they  could  not  ho,  pre- 
vented from  receiving  jjostulants ;  in  which  case  this  enemy 
would  rise  agiiu  and  l)o  iilwiiys  rcgirded  as  the  centre,  the 
head(|uarter,s,  l\\r.  nillyin;;  poiul,  of  the  .Tansonist  party  aa 
Hoon  as  its  leaihi's  diirel   to  slmw   (heir  hciids  (hrre. 


166  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  vi. 

The  cardinal,  who  foresaw  a  storm,  but  not  a  destruction 
beyond  all  belief,  urged  the  sisters  constantly,  by  others  as 
well  as  by  himself.  He  went  there  several  times,  always 
uselessly.  The  king,  pushed  on  by  his  confessor,  pressed 
him  eagerly,  ,  so  that  finally  the  cardinal  gave  way  and 
deprived  them  of  the  sacraments.  Thereupon  Pere  TeUier 
blackened  them  to  the  king  with  all  the  old  stains  he  could 
collect,  making  them  appear  to  the  king's  mind  as  rebels, 
who  alone  of  all  the  Church  refused  a  signature  pronounced 
orthodox,  and  persuaded  him  he  would  never  be  at  peace 
upon  these  questions  so  long  as  that  monastery,  famous  for 
its  rebellion  against  both  powers,  existed ;  and,  in  short,  that 
his  conscience  as  well  as  his  authority  demanded  of  him 
so  necessary  a  destruction,  too  long  delayed.  The  worthy 
father  goaded  and  twisted  the  king  so  successfully  that  the 
irons  were  put  in  the  fire  for  destruction. 

Port-Eoyal  of  Paris  was  only  an  appendage  to  Port-Eoyal 
des  Champs.  The  latter  had  been  removed  to  Paris  for 
some  years,  during  which  time  the  buildings  of  the  monas- 
tery des  Champs,  which  up  to  that  time  was  only  a  farm- 
house, were  erected.  Subsequently,  the  nuns,  whom  they 
had  taken  care  to  divide  in  the  various  persecutions  to  which 
they  had  been  subjected,  were  separated  into  two  monas- 
teries. Those  who  did  all  that  was  wanted  of  them  formed 
the  Paris  house,  the  others  Port-Eoyal  des  Champs,  Avhich 
had  no  greater  enemies  than  the  nuns  of  Paris,  to  whom 
nearly  all  the  property  of  the  establishment  was  given,  in 
the  hope  of  reducing  the  Champs  by  famine;  instead  of 
which  they  supported  themselves  by  labour,  economy,  and 
alms. 

Wlien  the  question  of  the  destruction  came  up,  Voysin, 
still  councillor  of  State,  but  a  sure  man  and  ready  to  do 
anything  to  make  his  fortune,  w"as  made  commissioner  on 


1709]  MEMOIKS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  167 

the  question  against  the  Champs,  and  we  can  judge  from 
that  of  the  equity  that  was  shown.  But  what  surprised 
Port-Royal  everybody  was  that  the  nuns  of  the  Champs, 

Rom""^Tit  doing    everything    in    due    form,   appealed   to 

in  Paris.  Eouie,  wherc  they  obtained  a  hearing.     As  the 

bull,  that  is,  the  constitution  Vineam  Domini  Sahaoth,  had 
never  been  given  to  destroy  the  peace  of  Clement  IX.,  the 
reluctance  of  the  nuns  to  sign  it  without  the  addition  of 
the  words  they  proposed,  and  to  which  they  adhered,  namely, 
"  without  prejudice  to  the  peace  of  Clement  IX.,"  was  not 
thought  improper.  That  which  was  made  their  crime  in 
France,  requiring  complete  eradication  and  deserving  of  the 
utmost  personal  penalties,  seemed  very  innocent  in  Eome. 
They  submitted  to  the  buU  in  the  same  spirit  in  which  it 
had  been  given ;  and  more  than  that,  Eome  did  not  ask. 

This  made  the  Jesuits  change  their  batteries,  because  it 
clearly  revealed  the  criminal  use  they  wanted  to  make  of 
the  bull;  for  they  knew  they  could  not  succeed  now  that 
Eome,  on  whom  they  had  counted,  failed  them.  They  feared 
still  more  the  delay  of  judicial  proceedings  in  Paris,  Lyons, 
Eome,  or  with  commissioners  in  partibus.  It  was  a  gordian 
knot,  which  seemed  to  them  more  easy  to  cut  than  to 
loose.  Accordingly,  they  raised  the  principle  that  there  was 
but  one  Port-Eoyal ;  that  tolerance  alone  had  made  two  of 
the  same  abbey ;  that  of  the  two  it  was  much  better  to  main- 
tain the  one  in  Paris  than  the  other,  which  had  scarcely 
enough  to  subsist  upon,  was  l)uilt  in  a  very  unhealthy  situ- 
ation, and  occupied  solely  by  obstinate  old  women,  who  for 
years  had  been  forbidden  to  receive  postulants.  ^ 

A  (lecr(3e  of  the  council  was  therefore  given,  in  virtue  of 
which,  on  the  night  of  the  28th  and  29th  of  October,  the 
abbey  of  Port-Eoyal  rlcs  Champs  wns  secretly  invested  by 
dntachnicMits  from  tlie  rcifimenlH  of  Mio  French  aiid  Suisso 


168  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON,    [chap.  vi. 

guards ;  and  towards  morning  D'Argenson  arrived  at  the 
convent  with  squads  of  archers  and  patrols.  He  commanded 
the  doors  to  be  opened,  and  assembled  the  whole  community 
in  the  chapel,  showed  a  lettre  de  cachet,  and  without  giving 
them  more  than  one  quarter  of  an  hour,  carried  off  all  the 
nuns  bodily.  He  had  brought  many  carriages  with  him,  in 
each  of  which  was  a  woman  of  middle  age ;  he  distributed 
the  nuns  among  them  according  to  their  places  of  destination, 
which  were  in  different  monasteries  at  ten,  twenty,  thirty, 
forty,  and  even  fifty  leagues'  distance,  and  made  them  start 
immediately,  each  carriage  being  accompanied  by  archers  on 
horseback,  precisely  as  public  women  are  carried  away  from 
a  bad  house.  I  pass  in  silence  all  that  accompanied  a  scene 
so  touching,  and  so  unheard-of.     Whole  books  are  in  it. 

After  their  departure,  d'Argenson  searched  the  house  from 
garret  to  cellar,  seized  all  he  thought  useful  and  carried  it 
off;  setting  aside  whatever  he  considered  should  belong  to 
Port-Eoyal  of  Paris,  and  the  little  that  he  could  not  refuse 
to  the  abducted  nuns.  He  then  returned  to  Versailles  to 
render  an  account  to  the  king  and  Pfere  Tellier  of  his  happy 
expedition. 

The  various  treatments  which  these  nuns  received  in  their 
different  prisons  to  force  them  to  sign  the  constitution  with- 
out the  reservation  they  insisted  on,  were  the  subject  of  many 
works  which,  m  spite  of  the  vigilance  of  the  oppressors, 
were  soon  in  the  hands  of  all  the  world,  whose  indignation 
burst  forth  publicly  to  such  a  point  that  the  Court  and  even 
the  Jesuits  themselves  were  harassed. 

But  Pere  Telher  was  not  a  man  to  stop  short  in  so  fine 
a  path.  I  must  end  this  matter  now,  although  it  really 
Military  destruc-  hclougs  to  the  first  uiouths  of  the  followmg 
tionofPort-  year.     Decrees  after  decrees,  lettres  de  cachet 

Royal  des  "^ 

Champs.  after  lettres  de  cachet  were  issued.     Families 


1709]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  169 

who  had  relatives  buried  at  Port-Eoyal  des  Champs  were 
enjoined  to  exhume  the  bodies  and  carry  them  elsewhere ; 
all  the  other  bodies  were  flung  hap-hazard  into  the  ceme- 
tery of  a  neighbouring  parish  church,  with  an  indecency 
scarcely  imaginable,  ilfter  which  they  proceeded  to  raze 
the  house,  the  church,  and  all  the  buildings,  as  is  done  with 
the  houses  of  the  murderers  of  kings,  so  that  not  one  stone 
remained  upon  another.  All  the  materials  were  sold,  and 
the  earth  ploughed  up  and  sown  —  not  with  salt,  and  that 
was  the  only  mercy  granted.  The  scandal  was  great,  even 
in  Eome.  I  confine  myself  to  this  simple  and  brief  recital 
of  so  violent  and  odious  a  deed. 

Cardinal  de  NoaiUes  felt  the  enormity  after  he  had  put 
himself  out  of  all  chance  to  ward  off  a  blow  which  exceeded 
his  foresight,  and  which,  in  fact,  could  not  have  been  im- 
agined. He  stood  no  better  with  the  Molinists,  but  very 
much  worse  with  the  Jansenists,  as  the  Jesuits  had  intended 
he  should.  After  this  fatal  period  he  had  no  health ;  I  mean 
to  say  that  he  was  almost  immediately  attacked,  and,  little 
by  little,  was  brought  to  the  last  extremities  until  he  died. 

The  different  events  that  I  have  related  retarded  my 
retirement;  but  after  being  for  some  time  at  La.  Fertd  we 
Discussion  about  h^d  Icisurc,  Mmc.  de  Saint-Simon  and  I,  to 
my  retirement.  ^e.^^^on  togcthcr  as  to  thc  dccisiou  that  I  ought 
to  make.  T  thouglit  that  complete  abandonment  of  the 
Court  was  the  only  course  that  suited  me.  I  was  not  re- 
])roachod  with  anything  whatever ;  I  did  not  feel  myself  to 
hliiiK!  in  any  way;  I  had  no  ground  for  justitiration,  nor 
f(jr  cxcuH(i,  nor  foi-  ;iiiy  li(ip(W)f  again  lloalin^' on  (he  strciiin. 
I  was  tlK)ught  to  liave  too  much  mind  and  cuucation.  Th(! 
important  friends  T  luid  at  Court,  the  niinistors,  tlio  principal 
.s(n'gnc,nrH,  tli(!  liuh'cs  of  grnat  considonilion,  wore  nnolhcr 
niatXcr  llia,t  did  nic  iiaiin  ;   ni\'  enemies  feai'cd  their  inlhicnct' 


170  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  vi. 

iu  my  behalf  and  that  I  should  use  it  to  caiTy  me  to  power. 
It  is  surprising  that  no  one  brought  up  against  me  the 
relations  between  myself  and  the  Due  d'OrMans,  although 
they  were  so  pubhc  and  so  little  restrained,  and  he  was  in 
such  bad  odour  with  the  king.  Nothing  shows  more  plainly 
the  motives  that  were  acting  against  me.  My  enemies  did 
not  i'ear  the  use  I  could  make  of  him  ;  they  feared  only  that 
v.rhich  I  might  make  of  others.  But  with  all  this  there  were 
no  means  whatever  of  recovering  myself  with  the  king,  who 
was  prejudiced  against  me  as  something  dangerous,  although 
nothing  could  be  alleged  against  me.  I  therefore  consid- 
ered the  evil  without  remedy,  for  the  very  reason  that  there 
was  no  substance  in  it  on  which  remedies  could  act ;  and 
I  felt  no  longer  disposed  to  swallow  perpetual  mortifications 
by  remaining  at  Court,  or  submit  to  a  base  servitude  I  had 
never  practised  and  for  which  I  felt  I  was  not  born,  in  the 
hope  of  attaining  to  something,  no  matter  what,  that  was 
better,  —  and,  likely  enough,  to  no  purpose. 

Mme.  de  Saint-Simon,  without  considering  herself  in  any 
way,  represented  to  me  gently  the  dangerous  consequences  of 
the  course  I  wished  to  follow  :  the  deadening  influence  of  dis- 
appointment ;  the  weariness  >f  a  life  unoccupied ;  the  sterility 
of  aimless  walks  and  books  to  a  man  of  my  nature,  whose 
mind  needed  fresh  food,  and  who  had  long  been  accustomed 
to  think  and  do  ;  the  regrets  I  should  feel  at  my  uselessness, 
which  would  weigh  upon  me ;  the  many  j^ears  they  would 
endure  at  my  age ;  the  harassment  and  loss  which  would 
result  to  my  children  when  they  entered  the  world  and  the 
service  ;  the  continual  need  of  the  Court  in  order  to  preserve 
my  patrimony,  and  the  ruinous  results  if  that  were  med- 
dled with  ;  and,  finally,  the  consideration  of  changes  that 
might  arise,  and  which,  indeed,  must  come  with  years  and 
age. 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  171 

We  had  reached  the  point  of  settling  that  I  would  spend 

four  months  of  the  winter  in  Paris  and  eight  months  at  La 

Fert^,  leaving  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  at  liberty 

A  wise  trap  '  o  j 

laid  for  me  at  to  make  a  shorter  stay  in  the  country,  when 
we  learned  of  the  death  of  one  who,  for  thirty 
years,  had  taken  charge  of  our  property  with  all  the  affec- 
tion, capacity,  and  reputation  one  could  wish.  This  misfor- 
tune required  our  return  to  Paris.  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon 
proposed  to  me  to  go  from  La  Fertd  to  Pontchartrain  and 
sleep  there.  She  arranged  the  time  during  a  trip  of  the 
Court  to  Marly,  knowing  the  chancellor  would  then  be  at 
home.  In  fact,  she  had  already  informed  him  of  our  discus- 
sion, and  he  awaited  me.  I  fell  into  the  trap  without  sus- 
pecting it,  and  we  reached  Pontchartrain  December  19. 

The  next  day  the  chancellor  took  me  into  his  cabinet  with 
his  wife  and  mine,  and  asked  me  where  I  now  was  since  he 
had  last  seen  me,  and  whether  reflection  had  not  come  to 
my  assistance.  I  explained  myself  at  full  length,  as  reported 
above.  lie  let  me  say  it  all ;  then  he  took  up  my  arguments, 
and  tried  with  his  natural  cleverness  and  sense,  to  turn 
them  inside  out.  After  which  he  censured  me,  but  with 
touching  grace  and  friendship.  He  showed  me  that  by 
such  a  course  the  enemies  of  whom  I  complained  would 
be  well  paid  for  being  so;  and  he  pointed  out  that  in  a 
situation  common  at  my  age  I  spared  them  little,  and  con- 
cealed little.  It  was  true  that  I  spoke  seldom,  and  sonie- 
timcH  not  at  all;  but  when  I  did  speak  tlie  energy  of  my 
expressions,  even  my  ordinary  ones,  alarmed  them ;  and 
my  silence  was  not  less  eloquent  in  certain  encounters, 
lie  added  that  he  did  not  moan  that  T  should  do  anything 
marked  or  rliimay,  but  merely  sliow  in  the  future,  by  inoro 
(;irfUtiiHj)e(;ti()i),  that  I  was  not  iurapablo  of  rellccting  and  of 
correcting  myself.     He  insistoil  that  as  there  was  notliing 


172  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG   DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  vi. 

definite  against  me  except  that  bet  about  Lille,  which  would 
soon  grow  stale  and  be  forgottten,  it  was  a  mistake  to  think 
myself  without  resources,  and  a  still  greater  one  to  fancy- 
that  a  man  of  my  sort  could  fail  if  he  chose  to  have  patience 
and  perseverance. 

The  next  day  he  and  his  wife  spoke  to  me  about  Mme. 
de  Saint-Simon,  in  her  absence,  pointing  out  to  me  the  sad 
Ufe  that  my  retirement  would  oblige  her  to  lead ;  and  also 
the  loss  of  all  the  good  she  could  do  me  at  Court,  where 
she  was  universally  and  unanimously  loved,  esteemed,  and 
highly  considered,  beginning  with  the  king. 

All  these  conversations  gratified  me  by  their  friendship, 
troubled  me  by  the  struggle  they  involved,  but  did  not  van- 
quish my  disgust  nor  my  resolution.  They  only  threw  me 
into  an  inward  conflict  which,  although  it  did  not  appear  on 
the  surface,  made  me  ill  at  ease. 

I  was  three  nights  at  Pontchartrain  ;  and  there  I  informed 
myself  as  to  the  situation  of  the  Due  d'Orldans.  The  chan- 
cellor told  me  that  nothiag  could  be  more  melancholy.  The 
estrangement  of  the  king  being  very  marked,  and  that  of 
Monseigneur  incomparably  more  so,  the  duke  was  driven  to 
an  embarrassment,  a  discomfort,  which  was  openly  visible,  to 
complete  isolation,  even  in  public  places,  Avhere  no  one  now 
approached  him,  and  where  he  on  his  side  seldom  approached 
any  one,  remaining  almost  wholly  alone  while  at  Court,  but 
entirely  abandoned  to  Mme.  d'Argenton  and  to  bad  company 
in  Paris,  where  he  went  very  often ;  in  short,  never  was  a 
prince  so  strangely  extinguished.  I  had  expected  a  part  of 
these  things,  but  not  to  hear  of  such  a  cruel  position.  It 
added  to  my  other  reflections. 

We  were  obhged  to  pass  through  and  stop  at  Versailles, 
where  we  dined  with  the  chancellor  Saturday,  December  21, 
the  day  the  king  returned  from  Marly.     In  the  evening,  the 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  173 

Court  having  returned,  I  found  myself  surrounded  by  friends, 
who,  as  if  by  mutual  agreement,  gathered  about  me,  men 
and  women,  Chevreuse,  Beauvilliers,  Ldvi,  Saint-Gdran,  Bouf- 
flers,  Villeroy,  and  many  others,  who  all  presented  the 
same  considerations  already  made  to  me,  and  formed,  as  it 
were,  a  conspiracy  against  my  resolution,  of  which  some 
were  informed,  and  others  suspicious  through  my  absence. 
They  took  me  in  relays,  one  after  another,  as  if  determined 
not  to  leave  me  in  peace. 

Surprised  at  a  reception  so  warm,  and  touched  by  friend- 
ship so  faithful  from  persons  of  such  consideration  to  one 
who  was  lost  to  favour  and  could  never,  even 

Decision  I  make, 

alone;  and  its  if  lie  camc  to  the  surface  again,  be  of  use  to 
™°  '''^^'  a  single  one  of  them,  —  these  reflections  taken 

together  overthrew  me.  I  resolved,  that  same  evening 
unknown  to  a  single  soul,  to  attempt  a  thing  which  should 
decide  me  forever,  either  to  remain  at  Court  with  some 
success,  or  to  abandon  it,  and  so  deliver  myself  from  the 
sort  of  persecution  I  endured  there. 

However  little  susceptible  things  so  vague  and  without 
foundation  were  of  an  explanation  with  the  king,  it  was 
nevertheless  my  last  resource  and  I  embraced  it,  led  by 
the  fact  that  this  course  had  once  before  succeeded  with 
me.  I  therefore  went  to  Mardchal,  whose  attachment  to 
me  as  well  as  his  nature  I  have  shown  elsewhere.  He  was 
one  of  those  who  liad  urged  me  the  most  not  to  leave  the 
Court  and  lie  bad  written  me  strongly  at  La  Fertd  to  hasten 
my  return.  T  found  liini  at  home.  The  conversation  soon 
turncil  on  my  position.  After  a  few  general  arguments 
about  it,  T  said,  suddenly,  that  the  trouble  was  1  had  to 
do  with  an  unapproachable  master,  and  that  if  I  could 
only  speak  with  liim,  T  was  sure  I  coidd  ]n\t  an  end  to  nil 
tlie  rascalities  employed  (o  make  my  conduct  disugreeablo 


174  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,    [chap,  vl 

to  him;  and  then  I  added,  abruptly,  that  it  had  come  into 
my  mind  to  make  him,  Mardchal,  a  proposition,  without,  at 
the  same  time,  wishing  to  ask  anything  beyond  his  power, 
because  I  had  every  reason  to  rely  on  his  friendship  and 
knew  that  his  will  was  not  wanting ;  in  brief,  therefore,  I 
wanted  him  to  answer  me  truly,  and  do  nothing  that  he 
did  not  himself  wish.  I  then  said  my  proposition  was  that 
he  would  take  his  time  to  say  to  the  king  how  troubled  he 
saw  me  at  feeling  that  I  stood  ill  with  him ;  that  I  should 
have  no  peace  till  I  could  speak  with  him  frankly  and  at 
leisure;  and  that  I  entreated  him  to  listen  to  me  with 
kindness  and  leisure  whenever  it  so  pleased  him  ;  adding 
that  by  his  refusal  of  an  audience  I  should  know  that  I 
had  nothing  further  to  look  for. 

Mardchal  thought  a  moment;  then  he  looked  at  me  and 
said  with  ardour:  "I  will  do  it;  m  fact  there  is  nothing 
else  to  be  done.  You  have  already  spoken  to  him  at  other 
times,  and  he  was  satisfied  with  you;  he  will  not  fear 
what  you  have  to  say  to  him  because  of  that  past  experi- 
ence. I  will  not  answer,  however,  for  what  he  will  do  if 
he  is  very  determined  against  you;  but  let  me  take  my 
time,  and  do  it  my  own  way."  We  agreed  that  he  should 
wTite  me  in  Paris  by  an  express  the  moment  he  had 
spoken. 

When  I  left  him  I  went  to  tell  the  chancellor  and  Mme. 
de  Saint-Simon  the  plan  I  had  conceived  and  undertaken, 
teUing  them  at  the  same  time  that  it  was  the  fruit  of  their 
persecutions  and  those  of  my  other  friends,  who  were  re- 
sponsible for  the  course  I  took.  Both  of  them  were  much 
pleased;  but  the  chancellor  feared  that  the  king,  having 
nothing  tangible  against  me,  would  not  hear  me ;  and  Mme. 
de  Saint-Simon  feared  it  still  more,  knowing  as  she  did 
from  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  the  king's  extreme  disap- 


1709]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  175 

proval  of  me,  which  she  had  so  judiciously  kept  to  herself. 
However,  there  was  nothing  now  to  do  but  wait  and  hope. 
I  could  not  have  done  better  than  I  had  done  as  to  the 
privacy  with  which  this  interview  would  be  asked  for.  If 
it  were  granted  it  would  be  a  good  sign ;  and  in  any  event 
I  should  be  on  my  feet  to  decide  later  if  the  audience  were 
refused. 

While   I   was   putting  the  irons  in  the  fire  on  my  own 

account,  I  did  not  lose  sight  of  the  melancholy  situation  of 

,  ,  the  Due  d'Orldans.     He  had  gone  from  Marly 

Proposal  that  °  •' 

I  make  to  the  to  Paris,  therefore  I  had  not  seen  him,  and 
at  Paris,  as  I  have  said,  I  never  saw  him. 
Shocked  at  the  depth  of  his  fall,  I  saw  but  one  sole  means 
by  which  to  raise  him,  —  truly  terrible,  and  even  dangerous, 
if  proposed  to  him  in  vain,  very  difficult  to  hope  to  make 
him  take ;  but  yet,  such  as  it  was,  it  did  not  frighten  me, 
—  namely :  to  induce  him  to  separate  from  his  mistress 
and  never  see  her  again.  I  felt  the  weight  and  the  peril, 
but  also  I  felt  the  necessity  and  the  possible  fruit  so 
deeply  that  I  resolved  to  undertake  it.  But  I  dared  not 
risk  alone  an  enterprise  so  full  of  dangers.  I  cast  my  eyes 
on  Mardchal  Besons,  the  only  man  who  was  in  a  posi- 
tion and  who  had  the  will  to  help  me,  although  I  knew 
him  but  slightly ;  but  he  was  closely  attached  to  the  Due 
d'Orldans,  who  had  great  confidence  in  him  and  had  con- 
tril)uted  nmch  to  his  elevation. 

On  the  last  day  but  one  of  this  year,  while  supping  alone 
with  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon,  I  received  by  express  a  note 
Marcchai  obtains  froui  Mardchal,  telling  me  that  Iw.  had  done 
f„''J'^°th°he'  "^y  mission,  which  had  not  been  ill  received 
'«'"«•  and  that  I  could    speak   as  I  wished,  but  it 

was  desirable  tliat  lie  sliould  see  mo  himself  bcforo  others. 
This  note  gave  sincere  joy  to  Mnx).  de  SuinL-Simon  and  to 


176  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMOX.     [chap.  ti. 

me.  We  thought  the  certainty  of  an  audience  a  great  step 
gained;  the  question  now  was,  would  it  be  delayed  or 
strangled  ?  Success  could  only  be  judged  from  the  audience 
itself.  "VVe  resolved  to  go  the  next  day  to  Versailles,  m 
order  to  show  the  king  impatience,  and  to  stay  there  with- 
out pressing  him,  and  wait  quietly  till  he  was  willing  to  hear 
me.  I  wanted  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  with  me  to  have  her 
counsel  in  a  conjuncture  on  which  depended  entirely  the 
sort  of  life  we  should  in  future  adopt,  a  thing  most  critical 
for  us  and  for  our  family. 

Arriving  at  Versailles  on  the  last  day  of  the  year  I  went 
to  see  Mar^chal,  who  told  me  that  two  nights  before,  having 
found  the  king  almost  alone  and  in  better  humour  than 
usual,  he  thought  to  sound  him,  by  speaking  to  him  first  of 
a  matter  of  his  own ;  that  the  kiug  having  favourably  an- 
swered, he  told  him  that  that  was  not  all,  that  he  had 
another  to  mention  which  was  nearer  his  heart ;  the  king 
then  asked  him  with  a  frank  ah  what  it  was,  and  he  told 
him.  On  which  the  king,  without  frowning,  but  certainly 
chilled,  rephed  he  had  nothing  against  me,  and  he  did  not 
see  why  I  should  think  to  the  contrary ;  thereupon  Mardchal 
redoubled  his  efforts  and  said  that  an  audience  was  what  I 
desired  most  in  the  world,  and  that  if  he  granted  it  he  would 
give  him,  Mar^chal,  the  greatest  pleasure.  The  king,  thus 
pressed,  rephed,  without  agreeing  to  the  audience,  "  But  what 
does  he  want  to  say  to  me  ?  There 's  nothing  at  all.  It  is 
true  a  few  trifles  have  reached  me,  but  nothing  of  conse- 
quence. Tell  him  to  rest  easy ;  I  have  nothing  against 
him."  But  Mardchal  insisted  again  about  the  audience, 
begging  him  to  grant  me  that  satisfaction  ;  but  at  his  leisure, 
not  one  day  more  than  another,  provided  it  could  be  alone 
in  his  cabinet :  to  which  the  kins  renlied  with  some  indif- 

'  Ox 

ference :  "  Very  good,  I  am    wiUing ;  whenever   he    likes." 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  177 

Mar(^chal  assured  me  he  felt  an  estrangement  in  the  king, 
hut  no  anger ;  and  he  said  that  he  hoped  I  should  have  a 
private  and  tranquil  audience ;  that  I  must  explain  my  case 
clearly  once  for  all,  and  not  fear  being  too  long,  because  it 
was  a  question  of  explaining  away  triiles  swelled  out  of 
nothmg,  and  would  need  much  detail.  He  advised  me  to 
speak  to  him  with  frankness  and  freedom,  and  to  mingle 
a  sort  of  friendship  with  my  respect;  as  for  the  rest,  I 
had  better  keep  myself  in  view  before  him,  in  order  to 
give  him  an  opportunity  to  choose  his  own  time  to  speak 
to  me. 

The  first  four  days  of  the  year  1710  were  passed  by  me  in 

matters  that  deserve  a  sort  of  journal,  because,  besides  the 

part  I  had  in  them,  they  laid  the  foundation 

M  first  attem  t     °^  ^  ^°^o  scrics  of  important  events.     The  first 

with  the  Due         day  of  this  year,  which  came  on  a  Wednesday, 

d'Orleans. 

recalled  the  Due  d'Orleans  to  Versailles,  to 
take  part  in  the  ceremonies  and  visits  of  the  day.  I  saw 
him  after  the  king's  vespers  ;  and  he  took  me  at  once  into 
his  dark  back  cabinet  which  opens  on  the  gallery.  At  first 
the  conversation  was  disjointed  and  tumultuous,  as  usually 
happens  after  a  long  separation.  But  soon  I  asked  him  for 
news  of  how  he  stood  with  the  king,  Monseigneur,  and  the 
other  royal  persons.  He  answered,  vaguely  enough, "  Neither 
well  nor  ill ; "  and  on  my  telling  him  that  that  was  not 
enough,  he  said  that  he  had  lately  given  a  fete  at  Saint-Cloud 
to  tlio  Elector  of  Bavaria,  where  there  had  been  a  ciuantity 
of  ladies,  among  tlieui  Mnio.  d'Arco,  inotlier  of  the  Chevalier 
of  Ijavarifi,  and  he  saw  no  lianii  in  having  Mnie.  d'Argenton; 
but  the  king  had  thought  very  ill  <>l'  it,,  mid  loM  him  so  ;  but 
ai'L(;r  a  few  days'  sulking  things  were  as  usujil.  1  ii'-ked 
him  what  he  meant  l)y  thiit  (',x|)resaion  "us  usual,"  which 
exijlaincd  nothing  to  mo  at  the  end  of  four  nmnths'  absence; 

VOL.  II. —  12 


178  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  vi. 

on  which  he  began  to  ramble  like  a  man  who  fears  to  touch 
depths.  I  pressed  him,  and  as  he  saw  that  I  knew  more,  he 
asked  me  what  I  knew.  I  told  him  frankly  that  I  was 
informed  he  was  ill  with  the  king,  so  ill  that  he  could  not 
be  worse;  that  the  king  was  indignant  against  him  at  all 
points,  and  ]\Ionseigneur  infinitely  more  so  ;  that  society  was 
leaving  him,  and  I  had  heard  such  grievous  things  about  all 
this  that  I  felt  in  despair.  He  listened  to  me  attentively 
and,  after  letting  the  conversation  drop  for  a  time,  he  told  me 
that  all  I  had  said  to  him  was  true. 

Moved  by  the  picture  that  I  drew  of  his  situation,  which 
he  could  not  conceal  from  himself  any  longer,  he  rose,  after 
a  long  silence,  and  began  to  walk  about  the  room.  I  rose 
too,  and  leaning  against  the  wall  was  watching  him  atten- 
tively, when,  raising  his  head  and  sighing,  he  exclaimed 
suddenly,  "  \Vhat  can  I  do  ? "  hke  a  man  who,  after  pro- 
foundly thinking,  finds  no  answer.  Then,  seeing  that  fine 
and  natural  opportunity,  I  seized  it  without  hesitating. 
"  What  can  you  do  ? "  I  said  in  a  firm  and  significant  tone, 
"  I  know  well  what  you  can  do.  I  shall  not  tell  you  ;  and 
yet  it  is  the  only  thing  to  do."  "  Ah !  I  understand  you," 
he  cried;  and  with  that  he  threw  himself  upon  a  seat  at 
the  farther  end  of  the  room.  Sure  that  he  had  really  under- 
stood me,  bewildered  myself  at  the  great  blow  I  had  just 
struck,  I  turned  a  little  toward  the  wall  to  recover  myself,  and 
to  spare  him  the  embarrassment  of  being  looked  at.  The 
silence  was  long.  I  could  hear  him  moving  impetuously  on 
his  chair,  and  I  waited  in  painful  suspense  as  to  how  the 
conversation  would  renew  itself.^ 

^  The  story  of  this  struggle  cannot  be  abridged  ;  but  it  is  too  long,  in 
proportion  to  the  limits  of  this  translation  to  give  entire ;  it  will  be  found 
in  Vol.  V.  of  the  Memoirs  pp.  90  to  12.3.  It  is  one  of  the  most  powerful 
and  graphic  descriptions  of  the  struggle  of  two  minds  that  was  ever 
penned.     We  think  of  these  historical  personages  in  their  satin  coats  and 


1710]  MEMOIRS   OF   THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  179 

I  was  alone  in  the  cabinet  of  the  Due  d'Orldans  when  he 
retuineJ,  as  I  supposed,  from  Mme.  de  Maintenon.  He  took 
nie  immediately  into  his  inner  room.  There  he  stood  with 
his  back  to  the  fireplace  and  said  not  a  word,  like  a  man 
bewildered.  After  considering  him  for  a  moment  I  thought 
it  was  better  to  importune  him  with  questions  rather  than 
leave  him  to  himself  in  these  critical  moments  which  needed 
so  much  support,  because  two  hours  must  yet  elapse  before 
he  could  speak  to  the  king  to  ask  him  to  take  steps  to  part 
him  from  his  mistress.  I  asked  him,  therefore,  if  he  was 
satisfied  with  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  and  whether  she  had 
entered  truly  into  what  he  had  said  to  her.  He  answered 
with  a  "  yes "  so  curt  that  I  hastened  to  ask  if  he  were 
fully  resolved  to  go  to  the  king  before  his  dinner.  He 
terrified  me  by  his  answer.  He  said  in  the  same  tone  that 
he  should  not  go.  "  What,  monsieur !  I  said  firmly,  "  you 
will  not  go  ?  "  "  No,"  he  replied,  with  a  dreadful  sigh,  "  all 
is  done."  "  All  is  done  ? "  I  answered  quickly ;  "  what  do 
you  mean  by  that  ?  All  is  done  because  you  have  spoken 
to  Mme.  de  Maintenon  ? "  "  Ah !  no,"  he  said,  "  I  have 
spoken  to  the  king."  "  To  the  king  !  "  I  cried ;  "  and  have 
you  told  him  what  you  meant  just  now  to  tell  him  ? "  "  Yes," 
he  said,  "  I  have  told  him  all."  "  Ah  !  monsieur,"  I  cried  with 
transport,  "all  is  done,  and  how  I  love  you  !  and,"  throwing 

thoir  flowing  wigs  ns  if  thoy  wore  actors  playing  their  part  upon  a  stage  ; 
but  Iierc  are  two  living  souls  in  the  throes  of  a  great  inward  struggle; 
one  Btruggling,  against  Iiis  strongest  feelings,  to  throw  off  n  curse;  tlio 
other  working  with  intense  passion  hut  a  clear  mind  to  force  him  to  do 
HO.  The  struggle  lasted  three  whole  days,  and  then  the  Duo  d'Orle'ans 
viojenlly  forced  himself  to  go  to  Mme.  de  Maintenon  and  resign  his 
mistresH  (on  whom  he  inade  enormous  selllemenis),  anil  ask  Iut  Io  si<(> 
tiic  king  and  have  her  sent  away.  Mme.  de  Maintenon  seems  to  have 
iicled  with  judgment  and  great  kindness;  she  urgetl  him  to  see  the  king 
himself,  and  not  Io  leave  the  negotiation  to  go  through  her.  The  result  is 
riven  in  the  text.  Haint-SitiH)n  say*  in<'ldentally  at  tlio  close  of  one  of 
these  days  that  his  body  and  miud  were  both  exhausted. —  Tu. 


ISO  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SATNT-SIMON.      [chap.  vi. 

myself  upon  him,  "  how  happy  I  am  to  see  you  delivered ; 
how  did  you  do  it  ?  "  "I  feared  myself,"  he  answered.  "  I 
was  so  violently  agitated  after  I  had  spoken  to  Mme.  de 
Maintenon  that  I  was  afraid  of  what  I  might  do  in  the 
course  of  the  morning,  and,  my  determination  at  last  being 
taken,  I  resolved  to  carry  it  out  in  haste.  I  returned  to 
the  king  after  mass."  Then,  overcome  with  his  sorrow,  his 
voice  was  choked  and  he  burst  into  sobs  and  tears.  I 
retired  to  a  corner  of  the  room.  A  moment  after  Besons 
entered ;  the  scene  and  the  deep  silence  astonished  him. 
He  lowered  his  eyes  and  stood  still.  I  made  a  sign  to  him 
which  he  did  not  understand ;  then,  approaching  him  softly, 
I  told  him  it  was  done;  that  the  Due  d'Orldans  had  con- 
quered, and  had  spoken  to  the  king. 


.yf  >///.!/      i/t      /<f      l,f//ffr> 


VIT. 


Friday,  January  3,  was  the  fourth  day  I  had  presented 

myself   before   the    king,  in    expectation   of    the   audience 

he  had  promised  Mar^chal  to  give  me,  and  I 

The  king  names  _ 

an  hour  for  my  began  to  be  troublcd  at  its  not  coming.  I 
au  lence.  weut  to  his  dinner,  which  I  found  half  over ; 

I  stood  with  my  back  to  the  balustrade  and  towards  the  end 
of  the  fruit  I  advanced  to  a  corner  of  the  king's  arm-chair, 
and  said  that  I  entreated  him  to  be  so  kind  as  to  remember 
that  he  had  let  me  hope  for  the  favour  of  being  heard.  The 
king  turned  to  me  and  replied  in  a  civil  manner :  "  When 
you  like ;  I  could  do  so  now,  but  I  have  business,  and  that 
might  make  it  too  short ; "  then,  a  moment  after,  he  turned 
again  and  added  :  "  But  to-morrow  morning,  if  you  like."  I 
answered  that  I  was  there  to  await  his  time  and  pleasure, 
and  tliat  I  should  have  the  honour  to  present  myself  before 
him  the  next  morning.  This  manner  of  answering  me 
seemed  of  good  augury ;  his  air  was  affable  and  not  impor- 
tuned, and  as  if  he  had  even  a  desire  to  hear  me  at  leisure. 
Mardchal,  the  chancellor,  and  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  thought 
as  I  did. 

The  next  day,  Saturday,  January  4,  the  last  of  the  four,  of 
HO  imich  consequence  to  nie  in  their  results,  which  began 
this  year  of  1710,  I  went  to  the  issue  of  the  king's  lever  and 
saw  him  pass  to  his  prtc-dicu  without  speaking  to  me.  It 
was  a  Court  liour  which  was  not  a  usual  one  with  mo.  I 
cont('-nt(!(l  myself  generally  willi  nicroly  seeing  liini  go  iind 
conic    I'loni    nniHH  ;  liecause,  aFlci-  a  long  attack   (tf  gou(,  ho 


182  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUC   DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  vii. 

dressed  himself  almost  entirely  on  his  bed,  where  the  service 
left  scarcely  any  room.  The  order  of  the  day  given,  those 
who  had  the  entrees  left  the  apartment,  and  everj'body  went 
off  to  the  gallery,  to  wait  until  the  king  should  go  to  mass. 
Scarcely  any  one  remained  in  his  room  but  the  captain  of 
the  guards  and  one  of  the  messengers.  I  waited ;  Harcourt 
was  the  captain  of  the  guards  on  duty,  and,  being  much 
surprised  to  see  me  remaining  there,  he  asked  me  what  I 
wanted.  As  he  would  presently  see  me  called  into  the 
cabinet,  I  made  no  difficulty  in  telling  him  I  had  a  word  to 
say  to  the  king,  and  I  thought  he  w^ould  call  me  into  his 
cabinet  before  mass.  Pfere  Telher,  whose  chief  business  was 
done  on  a  Friday,  passed  out  just  then,  and,  almost  im- 
mediately after,  Xyert,  first  valet  de  chambre  on  duty,  came 
out  of  the  cabinet,  looked  round  to  find  me,  and  said  that 
the  king  wanted  me. 

I  entered  the  cabinet  at  once.     I  found  the  king  alone, 

sitting  on  the  lower  end  of  the  council  table,  which  he  had 

a  habit  of  doing  when  he  wanted  to  speak  to 

My  audience. 

any  one  at  his  ease  and  at  leisure.  I  thanked 
him  as  I  approached  for  the  favour  he  was  so  good  as  to  grant 
me,  and  I  prolonged  my  compliment  a  little,  in  order  to 
better  observe  his  air  and  his  attention  ;  the  first  seemed  to 
me  stem,  the  second  complete.  Then,  without  his  answering 
me  a  word,  I  entered  upon  my  subject.  I  told  him  that  I 
could  not  any  longer  live  in  disgrace  with  him  (I  avoided 
that  word  by  circumlocutions,  so  as  not  to  startle  him,  but  I 
use  it  here  to  abridge)  without  endeavouring  to  learn  how 
I  had  fallen  mto  it ;  that  he  might  ask  me  by  what  I  judged 
there  was  a  change  in  his  kindness  for  me ;  to  which  I 
should  reply  that  having  been  for  four  years  on  all  the  trips 
to  Marly,  the  privation  had  seemed  to  me  a  sign,  to  which  I 
was  very  sensitive,  both  for  the  disgrace  and  for  the  privation 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  183 

for  SO  long  a  time  of  the  honour  of  paying  my  court  to  him 
The  king,  who  until  then  had  said  nothing,  replied,  with  a 
haughty  air  and  his  head  high,  that  that  was  nothing  and 
meant  nothing  on  his  part.  Even  if  I  had  not  known  what 
that  privation  meant  his  air  and  tone  would  have  shown  me 
his  answer  was  not  sincere  ;  but  I  had  to  take  it  as  he  gave 
it ;  so  I  told  him  that  what  he  did  me  the  honour  to  say  was 
a  great  comfort ;  and  since  he  accorded  me  a  hearing  I  en- 
treated him  to  allow  that  I  should  unburden  my  heart  in 
his  presence  (that  was  my  expression),  and  that  I  should  tell 
him  various  things  that  troubled  me  infinitely  ;  about  which 
I  knew  persons  had  done  me  very  ill  turns  with  him  ever 
since  there  had  been  rumours,  which  my  age  and  incom- 
petency prevented  me  from  believing,  that  he  had  cast  his 
eyes  upon  me  as  ambassador  to  Kome  (they  were  of  course 
very  true,  as  we  have  seen  elsewhere,  but  I  had  to  speak  in 
this  way,  because  he  had  never  made  me  the  actual  pro- 
posal) ;  and  I  went  on  to  say  that  envy  and  jealousy  had 
been  since  then  so  heated  against  me,  as  against  a  man  who 
might  become  something  and  ought  to  be  stopped  at  the 
start,  that  I  had  never  been  able  to  say  or  do  a  single 
innocent  thing ;  that  even  my  silence  was  not  innocent, 
for  M.  d'Antin  never  ceased  to  attack  me.  "  D'Antin ! " 
interrupted  the  king,  but  with  a  kinder  air,  "  he  never  named 
your  name  to  me."  I  answered  that  that  testimony  gave  me 
great  pleasure,  but  that  d'Antin  had  so  persistently  pursued 
me  in  society  on  all  occasions  that  I  could  not  help  fearing 
his  evil  offices  with  him. 

At  tliis  point  tlic  king,  who  was  already  beginning  to 
got  serene,  took  a  still  more  open  expression,  and  showing 
a  sort  of  kindness  and  even  satisfaction  in  listening  to  mo, 
he  cut  me  short  just  as  T  was  beginning  another  discourso 
with  tlu!  words,  "  There  is  still  unoLlior  man  —  "  by  saying: 


184  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,    [chap.  vn. 

"  But  you,  too,  monsieur,  you  talk  and  you  find  fault,  and 
that  is  what  makes  people  talk  against  you."  I  answered 
that  I  had  taken  great  care  not  to  say  harm  of  any  one, 
"  and  as  for  saying  it  of  his  Majesty  I  would  rather  be 
dead,"  looking  at  him  with  fire,  straight  in  the  eye ;  "  but  as 
for  others,  though  I  did  control  myself  a  great  deal,  it  was 
difficult  when  occasions  arose  not  to  speak  out  sometimes 
rather  naturally."  "But,"  said  the  king,  "you  talk  about 
everything,  about  public  affairs,  about,  I  say,  these  unpleasant 
public  affairs,  with  bitterness —  "  Then  I  interrupted  him 
in  my  turn,  observing  that  he  spoke  to  me  with  more  and 
more  kindness.  I  told  him  that  I  usually  spoke  very  little 
and  very  cautiously  about  public  affairs ;  but  it  was  true 
that,  vexed  sometimes  by  ill  successes,  I  had,  out  of  the 
abundance  of  my  heart,  both  blamed  and  argued ;  and,  in 
fact,  that  a  circumstance  had  occurred  which  made  a  great 
noise  against  me  and  did  me  much  harm ;  and  that  I  would 
make  him  a  judge  of  it,  and  ask  his  pardon  very  humbly  if 
it  displeased  him,  or  make  him  see,  if  he  judged  favourably, 
that  I  was  not  guilty. 

I  knew  beyond  a  doubt  that  a  malignant  use  had  been 
made  of  my  bet  about  Lille,  and  I  was  resolved  to  relate 
it  to  the  king ;  I  therefore  seized  the  fine  opportunity  which 
he  gave  me,  but  with  the  lightness  of  touch  that  was 
expedient  in  all  actors  with  him.  I  went  on  to  tell  him 
that  during  the  siege  of  Lille,  full  of  the  importance  of  our 
keeping  the  place,  in  despair  at  seeing  the  way  the  enemy 
was  intrenching  and  the  slowness  with  which  our  army  put 
itself  in  motion  after  three  couriers  had  been  despatched 
ordering  it  to  march  at  once  to  the  relief,  impatient  at  being 
continually  assured  of  the  glorious  raising  of  the  siege,  which 
I  saw  to  be  impossible  because  of  the  time  our  slowmess  gave 
to  the  enemy  to  put  themselves  beyond  all  danger,  I  had, 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  185 

in  ray  vexation,  bet  four  pistoles  that  Lille  would  not  be 
relieved  and  would  be  taken.  "  But,"  said  the  king,  "  if  you 
only  spoke  and  bet  out  of  interest  in  the  matter  and  from 
vexation  at  seeing  it  must  fail,  there  is  no  harm  in  that ; 
on  the  contrary,  it  was  very  right ;  but  who  is  this  other 
man  you  were  going  to  speak  to  me  about  ? "  I  told  him  it 
was  M.  le  Due ;  on  which  he  kept  silence  and  did  not  say, 
as  he  did  about  d'Antin,  that  he  had  never  spoken  to  him 
of  me.  I  then  related,  in  as  few  words  as  I  could  without 
omitting  anything  essential,  the  facts  and  suit  of  Mme. 
de  Lussan. 

The  king,  who  let  me  say  all,  and  on  whom  I  saw  that 
I  was  making  an  impression,  answered  with  the  air  and 
manner  of  a  man  who  wants  to  instruct,  that  I  was  con- 
sidered to  be  very  keen  about  rank ;  that  I  meddled  in  a 
great  many  ways  ;  that  I  instigated  others,  and  put  myself  at 
their  head.  I  replied  that,  to  tell  the  truth,  that  had  hap- 
pened sometimes,  bat  I  believed  I  had  never  done  anything 
that  would  displease  him ;  and  I  entreated  him  to  remember 
that  since  the  affair  of  the  quete,  now  four  years  ago,  I  had 
never  been  concerned  in  any  affair  whatever.  I  reminded  him 
in  two  words  of  that  affair  and  the  other  affair  of  the  Prin- 
cesse  d'Harcourt ;  and  on  my  saying  that  I  had  had  reason 
then  to  think  him  content  with  me,  he  agreed,  and  added  a 
few  words  on  those  matters  himself.  The  tone  of  familiarity 
I  had  usurped  in  tin's  parenthesis  about  the  Lnrrains,  and 
the  attention,  oponnesH, and  kinthiosa,  a])parontly  not  wearied, 
of  tlie  king  made  me  add  that  there  was  no  use  in  my 
trying  to  keep  out  of  things,  because  during  my  late  absence 
I  ]i!i(l  l)(!((n  extrciucly  lihuiicd  nlioiit  iin  affair  bctwiMMi 
the  carriages  of  Mine,  de  Mantouo  and  Mme.  ck^  Montbuzon, 
and  I  would  venture  to  ask  him  liow  I  could  osciipe 
flucli  malice,  and  wuch  gratuitous  talk,  1  being  absent  and  in 


186  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap,  vu 

perfect  ignorance  of  the  whole  affair.  "  That  shows  you," 
said  the  king,  taking  a  true  fatherly  air,  "on  what  foot- 
ing you  stand  with  the  world,  and  you  must  allow  that  you 
deserve  your  reputation  a  little.  If  you  had  never  had  so 
many  quarrels  about  rank,  or  at  least,  if  you  had  never  been 
so  sharp  when  such  affairs  came  up,  and  about  rank  itself, 
people  would  not  have  that  to  say  against  you.  This  shows 
you  that  you  ought  to  avoid  all  that,  so  as  to  stop  what 
people  may  say  and  get  rid  of  this  reputation  by  a  wise  and 
consistent  conduct  in  the  matter  which  will  give  no  grounds 
against  you."  I  replied  that  that  was  what  I  had  continu- 
ally tried  to  do  for  the  last  four  years,  as  I  had  had  the 
honour  of  teUing  him,  and  should  continually  try  to  do  in 
the  future ;  but  at  least  I  entreated  him  to  see  how  little 
share  I  had  had  in  these  later  things. 

The  king  was  so  pleased  with  what  I  said  that  he  several 
times  interjected  monosyllables  of  praise  so  as  not  to  in- 
successofmy  tcrrupt  the  thread  of  my  remarks,  and  when 
audience.  j  j^^^   finished   he   praised  me   outright   and 

applauded  me  at  his  ease,  without,  however,  entering  into 
the  quarrels  in  Guyenne,  so  much  did  he  abhor  discussion 
and,  above  all,  decision.  I  spoke  to  him  also  of  my  long 
absence  from  Court  on  account  of  the  grief  I  felt  at  standing 
ill  with  him  ;  in  saying  which  I  took  occasion  to  speak  less 
with  respect  than  with  attachment  to  his  person  and  of  my 
desire  to  please  him,  which  I  did  with  a  sort  of  effusion  and 
familiarity  because  I  felt  from  his  air  and  words  and  tone 
and  manner  that  it  was  within  my  reach  to  do  so.  AVhat  I 
said  was  received  with  a  readiness  that  surprised  me,  and 
showed  plainly  that  I  was  perfectly  restored  in  his  mind. 
I  begged  him  to  warn  me  if  in  future  he  should  hear  any- 
thing against  me  that  displeased  him,  and  he  should  know 
the  truth,  —  either  to  pardon  my  ignorance,  or  teach  me   a 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  187 

lesson,  or  find  that  I  was  not  in  fault.  He  waited  a  moment 
to  see  if  I  had  anything  more  to  say,  and  then  he  rose  from 
his  table.  I  asked  him  to  remember  me  for  a  lodging  because 
of  my  desire  to  pay  my  court  to  him  assiduously ;  he  replied 
that  there  was  none  vacant,  and  then  with  a  half -bow,  very 
smiling  and  gracious,  he  went  to  his  other  cabinet,  and  I, 
with  a  profound  bow,  went  out  the  way  I  came. 

I  went  straight  to  Mardchal,  as  a  just  tribute,  to  tell  him 
wliat  had  happened,  which  I  owed  solely  to  him  ;  he  was 
delighted  and  augured  the  best  from  it.  Then  I  went  to 
the  chancellor.  He  assured  me  that,  knowing  the  king  as  he 
did  on  the  reverse  side  as  one  might  say,  I  could  rely  not 
only  that  no  impression  remained  on  his  mind  against  me, 
but  also  that  he  was  very  glad  himself  that  none  remained. 
What  surprised  me  most,  and  gave  me  even  more  confidence, 
was  the  full  agreement  of  M.  de  Beauvilliers  in  this  opinion, 
and  his  assurance  that  he  did  not  know  another  man  with 
whom  the  king  had  been  so  open  or  had  entered  into  a 
matter  in  that  way. 

It  is  impossible  to  express  the  joy  of  these  friends  and 
how  the  chancellor  enlarged  upon  the  topic  of  my  retirement, 
which  his  cleverness  had  put  a  stop  to,  and  how  I  felt  and 
showed  my  obligation  to  him.  Then  I  went  to  relieve 
Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  of  her  uneasiness,  which  I  turned  into 
great  joy.  It  was  slio  who  had  set  the  chancellor  and  all 
ray  friends  upon  mc,  and  who  had  thus  forced  me,  as  I  have 
said,  to  this  last  remedy,  the  success  of  which  was  such 
that  the  king  ever  after  treated  mo,  not  only  well,  but  witli 
marked  distinction,  con5;idering  my  age,  and  without  break 
until  his  death.  I  say  for  my  age,  for  though  iit.  tliirty-livo 
I  was  not  in  youth, still  I  was  young  in  regard  In  hiiu  ;  nioro- 
over  I  was  a  man  who  Ik^M  no  ofTlco  and  Imd  no  I'aiuiliar- 
ity  about  Iuh  person.     Now  that  is  tho  treasure  of  Imviug  a 


188  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,    [chap.  vii. 

sensible  and  virtuous  wife.  She  admitted  to  me  at  last  the 
extreme  ahenation  the  king  felt  to  me,  as  she  heard  it  from 
the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne ;  which  she  had  prudently  hidden 
from  me  in  order  not  to  increase  my  estrangement.  She 
thought  wisely  that,  having  had  recourse  to  the  princess 
who  had  received  her  so  well,  she  ought  now  to  tell  her 
what  had  happened;  on  which  the  princess  showed  great  joy 
and  all  sorts  of  kindness.  As  nothing  was  more  unusual 
than  an  audience  with  the  king  for  those  who  had  no  particu- 
lar business  with  him,  the  one  I  had  just  had,  especially  its 
length,  made  much  noise.  I  kept  silence  and  let  people 
talk ;  because  no  one  is  obliged  to  render  an  account  of 
his  private  affairs.  Mardchal  told  me  two  days  later  that 
the  king  had  praised  me  very  much  to  him,  and  had  shown 
all  sorts  of  satisfaction  at  the  audience.  Let  us  now  return 
to  the  Due  d'Orldans,  with  whom  I  spent  the  whole  of  that 
same  afternoon. 

The  king  gave  himself  up  to  the  greatest  joy  at  the  new 
course  pursued  by  the  Due  d'Orldans,  and  showed  it  to  him 
Joy  of  the  king  ^^om  that  day  forth,  treating  him  then  and 
over  the  rupture,  af  tcrwards  bcttcr  and  better.  Mme.  de  Main- 
tenon  could  not  do  less  under  the  circumstances ;  and  the 
Jesuits  served  him  well,  for  the  prince  had  attached  them 
to  him.  The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  did  marvels  all  by 
herself,  and  so  did  the  Due  de  Bourgogne,  instigated  by 
M.  de  Beauvilliers.  Monseigneur  alone  remained  the  same 
as  ever,  embittered  about  the  Spanish  affair  by  Mme.  la 
Duchesse  and  by  all  the  others,  who  obsessed  him  with 
art  and  power.  The  hope  of  marrying  the  eldest  daughter 
of  Mme.  la  Duchesse  to  the  Due  de  Berry  redoubled  their 
efforts  to  keep  Monseigneur  estranged  from  the  Due 
d'OrMans. 

The  rupture  thus  achieved  and  terminated,  I  thought  of 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  189 

how  to  get  the  most  advantage  that  was  possible  from  it  for 
the  Due  d'Orl^ans,  and  I  saw  no  better,  in  all  respects,  than 
to  bind  him  closely  to  his  wife  in  this  favourable  conjunc- 
ture. He  had  been  infinitely  pleased  with  her  manner  of 
taking  the  rupture.  She  restrained  her  joy  with  modera- 
tion and  a  wisdom  that  did  not  forsake  her,  and  which  had 
great  force  in  drawing  the  duke  back  to  her.  Judging  that 
I  might  be  useful  to  them  I  told  him  that  up  to  the  present 
time  I  had  made  a  sort  of  public  profession  of  never  seeing 
her,  or  any  of  the  other  princesses,  to  whom  I  never  went 
except  for  an  instant  on  formal  occasions  ;  but  now  that 
they  were  no  longer  parted  it  was  for  him  to  prescribe  my 
conduct  in  that  respect,  and  for  my  attachment  to  him  to 
make  me  conform.  He  instantly  begged  me  to  go  and  see 
her,  with  an  eagerness  that  surprised  me.  He  said  it  was 
a  thing  he  had  resolved  to  ask  me ;  adding  that  he  should 
be  extremely  glad  if  the  intimacy  between  himself  and  me 
could  be  extended  to  her ;  and  he  enlarged  upon  his  reasons 
and  his  desire  for  it. 

I  was  also  strongly  urged  by  herself  to  visit  her.  After 
allowing  a  few  days  to  pass,  during  which  the  Due  d'Orleans 
Intimate  relation  P^GSsed  me  again  to  do  SO,  I  agreed  with  the 
between  the  Duchessc   dc  ViUcroy  for  the  best  hour,  be- 

doridana and  causB  slic  dcsircd  to  scc  mc  m  private.  1  was 
announced  therefore  one  evening  after  her 
cards  were  over,  the  few  familiar  persons  who  remained 
going  away  immediately.  She  was  in  her  cabinet  lying  on 
a  little  day  couch,  convalciscing  from  her  conlincment  witli 
tli(!  future  Queen  of  S]iaiu.  A  scat  was  brought  for  mo 
beside  her,  and  I  sat  down.  There  tcte-a-tctc,  the  gracious 
things  she  said  to  me  cnnnot  bo  duly  ropoatcd.  Joy  and 
gratitude  were  expressed  with  ii  choice  of  words  so  correct, 
Ro  precise,  so  strong,  that  1  was  greatly  surprised.     Above 


190  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  vii. 

all,  she  thanked  me  for  having  served  her  so  weU  without 
having  known  her ;  and  dwelt  on  the  generosity  (that  was 
the  word  she  used)  of  having  avoided  her,  the  better  to 
deliver  her.  There  was  no  protestation  she  did  not  make 
me  of  friendship,  of  memory,  of  eternal  gratitude ;  and  the 
words  she  used  in  asking  for  my  personal  friendship  were 
kind  and  strong.  After  a  while  she  said  to  me,  still  blush- 
ing, —  for  she  had  blushed  more  than  once  and  with  charming 
grace  in  the  course  of  her  thanks,  —  that  I  might  perhaps 
be  surprised  that  she,  who  was  justly  thought  to  be  little 
confiding,  should  speak  to  me  with  such  perfect  openness 
during  a  first  interview;  but  that  my  intimacy  w^ith  the 
Due  d'Orldans,  and  what  I  had  just  done  for  them,  permitted 
it  and  even  required  it.  After  this  httle  preface  she  entered 
with  me  into  a  discussion  of  the  utmost  confidence  as  to  the 
conduct  the  Due  d'Orldans  ought  to  follow  to  clear  himself 
from  the  position  in  which  he  now  stood. 

I  was  extremely  surprised  to  find  such  intelligence,  sense, 
and  rightmindedness ;  and  they  led  me  to  decide  wathin 
myself  even  more  strongly  to  spare  no  effort  to  unite  the 
husband  and  wife  as  closely  as  I  could;  firmly  persuaded, 
among  a  crowd  of  other  reasons,  that  he  could  nowhere  find 
a  better  counsellor  than  she.  We  agreed,  therefore,  at  this 
first  interview  on  a  number  of  things,  resolving  to  work 
together  to  replace  the  duke  in  his  proper  position  in 
society,  —  a  thing  which  we  found,  nevertheless,  more  diffi- 
cult than  we  expected.  But  at  any  rate  I  succeeded,  rather 
easily,  in  uniting  him  with  his  wife  and  making  him  hve 
^vith  her  as  agreeably  and  even  as  intimately  as  it  was  in 
him  to  do,  to  the  great  surprise  of  the  Court  and  the  great 
vexation  of  Mme.  la  Duchesse  and  his  other  enemies,  who 
could  not  dissimulate  it.  Becoming  in  this  way  the  author 
of  their  union,  I  also  became  its  continual  instrument  and 


1710J  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  191 

was  a  third  in  equal  intimacy  and  confidence  with  both 
of  them.  Their  enemies  before  long  began  to  dread  its 
eflects;  and  mine  to  bruit  about  that  I  steered  the  ship. 
One  thing  I  thought  I  ought  chieily  to  work  for  was  to 
bring  the  Due  d'Orldans  back  to  the  social  world.  I  did 
what  I  could  to  coax  him  into  making  the  necessary 
advances,  aided  by  the  duchess,  and  favoured  by  the  great 
and  public  change  of  the  king  towards  him  ;  but  he  was 
still  so  agitated  and  startled  that  he  feared  both  solitude 
and  company  alike,  and  could  not  bring  himself  to  use  the 
means  and  the  facihties  for  bringing  the  world  once  more 
about  him. 

This  year  the  king  did  not  give  the  usual  New  Year's 
gifts  wliich  his  family  received  from  him  annually  ;  and  the 
No  New  Year's  ^^^^J  thousaud  pistolcs  wliich  he  took  himself 
gifts  from  the        for  his  own  gift,  he  distributed  for  the  needs 

king  this  year. 

of  the  frontier  of  Flanders,  —  a  thing  that  had 
never  before  happened ;  but  all  sorts  of  things  were  lacking 
everywhere  this  winter. 

The  conversation  that  I  had  with  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers 
about  the  Abbd  de  Polignac  will  be  remembered,  and  the 
^   .        .  .         manner   in   which   he   received   what  I  said. 

Cunous  admis- 
sion of  M.  de  Never,  therefore,  had  we  made  mention  of  him 

Beauvilliers 

about  the  Abbe  to  cach  othcr,  nor  of  anything  that  approached 
de  Pohgnac.  ^j^^  subjcct.     My  retum  to  Marly  was  one  of 

the  first  fruits  of  my  audience  with  the  king.  On  the  first 
trip  I  made  there,  having  gone  one  evening  to  converse  with 
the  Due  de  Beauvilliers,  and  talking  of  anything  except  the 
Abbd  de  Polignac,  the  duke  suddenly  looked  at  me  fixedly 
with  a  smile,  Haying  ho  had  a  confidence  ho  ought  to  make  to 
me,  in  fact  a  reparation  which  ho  owed  mo  and  could  no 
longer  withhold.  T  cowhl  not  iningino  what  he  wanted  to  say. 
"You  Miii.st  r(itii('.iiil)('r,"  ho  Hiiid,  "  tho  convorsation    we  hiul 


192  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap,  vil 

together  in  this  very  room  some  four  years  ago  about  the 
Abbd  de  Polignac.  Well,  you  were  a  prophet.  I  must  own 
that  everything  happened  from  point  to  point  just  as  you 
predicted,  and  the  Abbe  de  Polignac,  by  ingi-atiating  himself 
with  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  through  the  sciences,  and  seeing 
him  often  alone,  did  absolutely  estrange  him  from  me."  I 
began  to  exclaim,  but  he  silenced  me.  "  Hear  it  all,"  he  said. 
"  1  was  not  very  long  in  finding  it  out.  I  tried  to  win  the 
prince  back,  but  I  only  estranged  him  further.  No  more 
consultations,  no  more  friendly  discussions,  until  I  found  my 
presence  was  a  burden.  M.  de  Chevreuse  found  himself  in 
the  same  position.  I  took  the  course  of  saying  nothing  to 
the  Due  de  Bourgogne,  merely  answering  in  two  words 
when  he  spoke  to  me,  doing  the  duties  of  my  office  so  that 
the  public  should  notice  nothing,  and  continuing  in  my 
functions  like  a  total  stranger,  making  no  complaint  and 
merely  answering  when  spoken  to.  That,  if  you  please, 
monsieur,  lasted  one  whole  year.  At  last  he  came  back  of 
himself ;  he  warmed  up,  he  seemed  embarrassed  by  my 
reserve,  and  he  felt  his  way  on  several  occasions.  I  saw  his 
approach  respectfully,  but  I  gave  him  no  opening,  until  one 
fine  day  he  took  me  into  his  cabinet  and  unbuttoned  himself. 
I  received  what  he  said  as  I  ought,  and  I  told  him  at  the 
same  time  what  I  thought  right  about  attachment  and  con- 
fidence ;  I  said  that  I  held  to  him  by  ties  of  the  heart  only, 
and  the  desire  for  his  good  and  the  good  of  the  State,  and 
for  no  other  thing  whatever ;  that  he  had  seen  me  retire  in 
proportion  to  liimself,  and  hold  myself  to  the  respect  and 
simple  function  of  my  office.  Then,  under  this  return  on 
his  part  of  friendship  and  confidence,  he  acknowledged  to  me 
that  it  was  the  Abbd  de  Polignac  who  had  alienated  him ; 
that  he  was  a  very  dangerous  enchanter,  a  siren  —  "  "  Well, 
monsieur,"  I  interrupted, "  did  you  still  hold  to  your  cruel  char- 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  193 

ity,  instead  of  breaking  that  abbd's  neck  when  you  had  the 
chance  ? "  "  Oh  !  as  for  that,"  he  answered,  "  it  would  not 
have  been  charity,  it  would  have  been  abandoning  the  Due 
de  Bourgogne,  and  lacking  in  charity  to  him.  I  assure  you 
that  I  made  him  feel  all  that  I  ought  in  the  matter  for  his 
own  sake ;  and  as  for  what  you  call  breaking  a  man's  neck, 
you  may  rely  upon  it  I  have  so  well  and  so  completely  broken 
that  of  the  Abbd  de  Polignac  that  he  will  never  in  all  his 
life  come  near  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  again."  I  praised  him 
highly,  as  a  man  who  had  surpassed  himself ;  after  which  I 
licensed  myself  to  rail  at  him  a  little  for  never  letting  him- 
self know  people,  or  letting  others  make  them  known  to 
him. 

Saturday,  February  15,  the  king  was  awakened  at  seven 
o'clock,  an  hour  earlier  than  usual,  because  the  Duchesse 
Birth  of  King  dc  Bourgoguc  was  taken  ill  in  childbirth.  He 
Louis  XV.  dressed  rapidly  to  .be  near  her.     She  did  not 

keep  him  waiting  long.  At  eight  o'clock,  three  minutes  and 
three  seconds,  she  gave  birth  to  a  Due  d'Anjou,  who  is  now 
King  Louis  XV.  reigning  at  the  present  moment ;  an  event 
which  caused  much  joy.  The  prince  was  incontinently  bap- 
tized privately  by  Cardinal  Janson  in  the  room  where  he 
was  born,  and  then  taken  on  the  knees  of  the  Duchesse  de 
Ventadour  in  a  sedan  chair  to  the  king  in  his  apartment, 
accompanied  by  the  Mardchal  de  Boufliers  and  by  the  body- 
guard with  their  officers.  Soon  after,  La  Vrillifere  brought 
him  the  cordon  bleu,  and  all  the  Court  went  to  see  him,  —  two 
things  which  much  displeased  Monsieur  his  brother,  who  did 
not  restrain  himself  in  letting  it  be  known.  Mme.  de  Saint- 
Simon,  who  was  in  the  {chamber  of  the  Duchesse  do  Bour- 
gogne, happened  to  bf!  among  the  first  to  behold  the  lunvly 
born  prince.  The  delivery  and  ita  results  wore  all  muat 
fortunate. 

VOL.  II.  —  13 


194         MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,    [chap.  vn. 

A  marriage  occurred  about  this  time  in  which  I  took  great 
interest.  The  Due  de  Chevreuse,  for  all  his  penetrating, 
Marriage  of  the  well-regulated,  and  metaphysical  mind,  was  so 
wi'th'^MuiT^  thoroughly  ruined  by  insisting  on  managing  his 
Neufchatei.  qwu  affairs  and  expecting  them  always  to  get 

better,  that  without  the  revenue  of  the  government  of  Guyenne 
he  would  not  have  had  anything  to  live  on.  He  had  done 
many  tine  things  at  Dampierre.  He  had  cut  a  canal  from 
his  forests  of  Montfort  and  Saint-Leger  to  Mantes,  at  infinite 
cost  and  immense  damages  paid  to  the  abutters,  in  order  to 
carry  his  wood  to  the  Seine;  through  which  canal  there 
never  flowed  a  hogshead  of  water.  He  paved  his  forests  to 
get  out  the  wood  —  all  to  no  purpose ;  and  th3n  he  suffered 
by  a  great  bankruptcy  of  his  merchants.  After  that  he 
looked  out  for  a  rich  marriage  for  the  Due  de  Luynes,  son  of 
the  Due  de  Montfort,  his  eldest  son,  though  he  was  still 
very  young.  The  Mar^chal  Due  de  Luxembourg  left  two 
granddaughters.  The  eldest  had  eighty  thousand  francs  a 
year  in  fine  estates,  besides  jewels,  and  her  sister  had  almost 
as  much.  M.  de  Luxembourg,  their  uncle,  son-in-law  to  M. 
and  Mme.  de  Chevreuse,  a  widower  without  children  and 
always  closely  allied  with  them,  made  the  marriage.  The 
person  and  property  of  the  young  lady  were  all  that  could 
be  wished. 

M.  du  Maine,  finding  the  ground  cleared  by  the  deaths  of 
three  princes  of  the  blood,  the  Prince  de  Conti,  M.  le  Prince, 
The  children  of  and  M.  Ic  Duc  [wlio  died  March  4, 1710],  leav- 
^vfn  e'^uiuank  ^^g  minor  children,  the  eldest  only  seventeen 
with  himself.  years  of  age,  bethought  himself  of  making  the 
most  of  the  opportunity  and  of  obtaining,  at  one  dash,  for 
his  children  the  honours  and  rank  which  he  had  himself 
acquired  through  insensible  degrees ;  degrees  grafted  one 
upon  another  by  usurpations,  by  the  introduction  of  customs. 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  195 

verbal  confirmations,  and  by  acquired  facts,  like  his  right  to 
a  seat  in  parliament  —  such  as  it  was. 

His  chief  means  was  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  who  had  brought 
him  up,  and  to  whom  he  had  sacrificed  his  mother.  He 
managed  her  with  all  the  art  of  which  he  was  a  past-master, 
while  she,  on  the  other  hand,  loved  him  more  tenderly  than 
any  nurse  or  foster-mother,  and  with  the  most  entire  aban- 
donment. She  entered  into  all  his  wishes  for  the  aggran- 
dizement of  his  children ;  especially  now  in  the  opportunity 
afibrded  by  the  lack  of  princes  of  the  blood,  who  were  all 
either  dead  or  minors,  and  in  the  condition  of  a  Court  entirely 
subdued  and  submissive.  He  had  no  difficulty  in  persuad- 
ing her  that  there  was  nothing  to  fear  on  the  part  of  the 
sons  of  France  or  of  the  Due  d'Orldans,  who  would  yield  at 
the  shghtest  sign  of  the  king's  will. 

Whatever  weakness  the  king  had  shown  for  his  bastards, 
and  for  this  one  in  particular  above  all  the  others,  however 
absolute  he  was  and  piqued  himself  on  being,  it  is  notice- 
able that,  except  in  the  marriages  of  his  daughters  and  in 
the  governments  and  ofhces  of  his  sons,  what  he  did  for 
them  was  done  little  by  little,  without  forms,  without  writ- 
ings of  any  kind,  simply  by  usurpation,  habit,  repetition; 
and  even  tlien  that  he  was  always  swept  along  beyond  his 
own  feeling.  On  this  occasion  the  same  thing  occurred ; 
same  resistance,  same  sense  of  the  enormity  of  what  was 
proposed  to  him,  and,  in  tlic  end,  the  same  dragging  along,  as 
if  against  his  will,  and  without  either  forms  or  documents. 
'J'he  struggle  was  not  long,  for  it  only  began  after  March  4, 
the  day  of  tlie  death  of  M.  le  Due,  and  ended  on  the  16th 
of  the  same  nionLh  by  the;  victory  of  l\r.  dii  Maine. 

Wh(!n  lh(;  niatt(!r  was  resolved  upon  by  the  king,  Mnie. 
do  Maintenon,  and  M.  (hi  Miiiiic,  it  bcciiiui^  ii,  tiucstion  of  lU'- 
claring  it;    and    this  dechmition   producrd   (lie    nu)Ht.  novol 


196  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,    [chap,  vil 

and  singular  scene  of  this  long  reign  to  any  one  who  knew 
the  king  and  the  intoxication  of  his  omnipotence  in  which 
Very  singular  1^6  Uved.  Entering  his  cabinet  at  Versailles, 
scene  at  its  an-      alter  suppcr  On  the  evenino;  of  Saturday,  March 

nouncement  in  ^  ^  °  '' 

the  king's  16,  hc  pauscd  to  give   the  order  of   the   day, 

after  which  he  advanced  gravely  into  the  second 
cabinet,  placed  himself  beside  his  chair  without  sitting  down, 
passed  his  eyes  slowly  over  the  Vv'hole  company,  and  said, 
without  addressing  any  one,  that  he  gave  to  the  cliildren  of 
M.  du  Maine  the  same  honours  and  the  same  rank  as  those 
which  M.  du  Maine  himself  enjoyed ;  then,  without  a 
moment's  interval,  he  walked  to  the  farthest  end  of  the 
cabinet  and  called  Monseigneur  and  the  Due  de  Bourgogne 
to  come  to  him.  There,  for  the  first  time  iji  his  life,  that 
monarch  so  haughty,  that  father  so  stern  and  so  masterful, 
humiliated  himself  before  his  son  and  grandson.  He  said 
to  them  that  as  both  would  successively  reign  after  him,  he 
begged  them  to  consent  to  the  rank  he  had  now  given  to  the 
children  of  ]\I.  du  Maine  ;  to  grant  this  to  the  tenderness  he 
hoped  they  felt  for  him,  and  to  that  which  he  himself  felt 
for  those  children  and  their  father ;  and  he  added  that,  old  as 
he  was  and  considering  that  his  death  could  not  be  far  dis- 
tant, he  recommended  these  children  to  them  with  all  the 
earnestness  of  which  he  was  capable,  and  he  hoped  that  after 
he  was  gone  they  would  protect  them  out  of  friendship  for 
his  memory.  He  prolonged  this  touching  speech  for  quite  a 
time,  during  which  the  two  princes,  somewhat  moved,  stood 
pressed  against  each  other,  with  their  eyes  to  the  ground, 
motionless  with  amazement  at  the  thing  and  at  the  speech, 
and  proffering  not  a  word  in  reply.  The  king,  who  appar- 
ently expected  something  better  and  wanted  to  force  them 
to  it,  called  to  M.  du  Maine,  who  went  to  him  from  the  other 
end  of  the  cabinet  where  the  deepest  silence  reigned ;  then 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  197 

the  king  took  him  by  the  shoulders  and  leaning  upon  them 
as  if  to  make  him  bend  low  to  the  princes,  he  presented  him 
to  them,  repeating  in  his  presence  that  i'rom  them  he  hoped 
protection  for  his  son  after  his  death,  that  he  asked  it  with 
great  earnestness,  that  he  hoped  for  this  favour  from  their 
natural  goodness  and  from  their  friendship  for  him  and  for 
his  memory ;  and  he  ended  by  saying  that  he  asked  their 
pledge. 

At  that  moment  the  two  princes  looked  at  each  other, 
hardly  knowing  whether  what  was  happening  was  a  dream 
or  a  reahty,  and  not  answering  by  a  single  word,  until, 
pressed  more  vehemently  by  the  king,  they  stammered  I 
know  not  what,  which  said  nothing  definite.  M.  du  Maine, 
embarrassed  by  their  confusion,  and  much  disturbed  at 
obtaining  nothing  clearly  from  their  lips,  put  himself  in  a 
posture  to  clasp  their  knees.  Then  the  king,  his  eyes  wet 
with  tears,  begged  them  to  embrace  liim  in  his  presence  and 
to  assure  him,  by  that  mark,  of  their  friendship.  From  that 
he  went  on  to  entreat  them  to  give  him  their  word  that  they 
would  not  take  away  the  rank  he  had  now  given ;  and  the 
two  princes,  more  and  more  bewildered  by  a  scene  so  ex- 
traordinary, muttered  again  as  best  they  could,  but  without 
promising.  I  shall  not  undertake  here  to  comment  upon  so 
great  a  mistake,  nor  upon  the  little  value  of  such  a  promise, 
had  they  given  it  in  this  way.  I  content  myself  with  writing 
down,  word  for  word,  what  I  learned  from  M.  do  Ijcauvillicrs, 
to  whom  the  Due  de  Pjourgogne  related  all  that  had  taken 
place  the  next  morning,  the  duke  repeating  it  to  me  the 
same  artcrnoon.  It  was  uIko  known  througli  Monseigiunir, 
who  told  it  to  his  intimates,  not  concealing  from  them  how 
fihockcd  he  was  by  this  bo  townl  of  rank.  Ho  had  never 
liked  the  Due  (hi  Maine;  ho  liad  alwny.s  boon  wounded  by 
the  dineronco  between  tlicni  in  tlm  hcnit  of  llu)  Uin<'  uud  his 


198  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON,    [chap.  vii. 

fatherly  familiarity ;  and  there  had  been  times  in  the  days  of 
his  youth  when  the  Due  du  Maine,  without  actual  lack  of  re- 
spect, had  little  considered  Monseigneur,  —  very  different  in 
this  from  the  Comte  de  Toulouse,  who  had  won  his  friend- 
ship. As  for  the  poor  Due  de  Bourgogne,  I  was  not  long  in 
knowing  what  he  thought  of  tliis  fresh  enormity ;  and 
neither  the  one  nor  the  other  was  sorry  that  his  feelings 
were  divined  about  it  —  another  strange  blunder !  After  the 
last  indistinct  muttering  of  the  two  princes,  the  king,  seeing 
that  he  had  nothing  further  to  hope,  returned  to  his  chair, 
but  without  showing  the  least  displeasure,  and  the  cabinet 
resumed  its  usual  appearance. 

As  soon  as  the  king  was  seated,  he  noticed  the  gloom  that 
prevailed ;  and  he  hastened  to  say  a  few  words  about  the 
rank  he  had  given,  adding  that  he  should  be  very  glad  if 
everybody  showed  their  satisfaction  and  testified  it  to  the 
Due  du  Maine ;  on  which  the  latter  was  incontinently 
greeted  by  every  one.  The  remainder  of  the  evening  was 
short,  and  all  were  ill  at  ease. 

The  next  day  the  news  burst  forth ;  it  was  learned  that 
there  would  be  no  dociiments,  except  a  simple  note  on  the 
register  of  the  master  of  ceremonies,  in  the  absence  of  the 
grand-master,  who  was  serving  this  winter  on  the  frontier. 
The  note  was  in  these  words :  — 

"  The  king,  being  at  Versailles,  has  ruled  that  in  future 
the  children  of  M.  le  Due  du  Maine  shall  have,  as  grandsons 
of  his  Majesty,  the  same  rank,  the  same  honours,  and  the 
same  allowances,  enjoyed  up  to  the  present  time  by  the  said 
Sieur  the  Due  du  Maine ;  and  his  Majesty  has  ordered  me 
to  make  this  mention  of  it  on  my  register." 

That  said  all  and  yet  said  nothing,  and  did  not  express 
anything  whatever,  except  that  it  referred  all  to  the  custom 
of  the  position  of   the  Due  du  Maine,  without  explaining 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  199 

what  that  was,  nor  by  what  title  it  was  held  ;  but  it  insinu- 
ates much  in  speaking  of  the  grandsons  of  his  Majesty,  and 
in  the  absolute  use  of  that  term  without  qualification. 

Never  was  anything  received  by  the  public  in  a  manner 
so  gloomy  ;  no  one  at  Court  could  venture  to  say  a  word  out 
loud,  but  everybody  whispered,  and  everybody  detested  the 
affair.  It  was  seen  that  representations  about  it  would  be 
not  only  useless,  but  considered  criminal ;  and  after  the 
declaration  in  the  cabinet  was  made  public  and  it  was 
known  that  the  king  had  invited  congratulations  to  M.  du 
Maine,  no  one  dared  to  omit  them.  People  had  openly 
declared  against  the  first  rank  given  to  M.  du  Maine ;  but 
when  it  was  thus  capped  everybody  was  afraid  to  say  a 
word,  and  the  crowd  went  to  see  him  with  gloomy  faces 
and  a  mere  bow,  seeming  more  to  pay  a  penalty  than  a 
compliment. 

The  lying-in  of  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  followed  by 
Lent,  had  kept  the  king  for  several  months  at  Versailles 
1  return  to  Marly  without  making  trips  to  Marly.  He  went 
with  the  king.  i-i-^gj-e  Qjj  ^Yie  Monday  following  the  first  Sun- 
day after  Easter,  April  18,  and  stayed  till  Saturday,  May  17. 
I  had  gone  for  a  while  to  La  Fertd ;  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon 
presented  herself  for  this  trip,  which  was  the  first  the  king 
had  made  after  the  audience  he  had  given  me.  "We  were  of 
it.  I  arrived  at  Marly  from  La  Fertd,  and  from  that  time  I 
never  missed  a  trip  until  the  death  of  the  king,  not  even 
those  from  which  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  was  necessarily 
absent.  I  noticed  from  the  first  that  the  king  spoke  to  me 
and  distinguished  me  more  than  ho  did  any  man  of  my  ago 
who  had  no  olTice  and  no  familiarity  with  liim. 

Returning  thus  to  my  afouRtonicd  life,  I  often  discussed 
with  llio  miniHters  niul  llie  ])rincipal  courtiers  who  wore 
fridiids  (tf  mine,  the  iiicliuiclKily  (•oiidition  of  pulilic  alTiiirs, 


200         MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap,  til 

which  they  did   not  conceal  from  one   another  and   about 
which  they  thought  with  me.    A   few  days  after  the  re- 
turn to  Versailles  I  went,  as  I  often  did,  to 

Conversation 

with  the  Due  de     spcnd  SL  day  at  Vaucresson,  where  the  Due  de 
eauvi  lers.  Beauvilliers   had   made  himself   the  prettiest 

retreat  in  the  world,  in  which  he  usually  spent  the  Thurs- 
day and  Friday  of  every  week,  inaccessible  to  everybody 
except  his  nearest  family  and  four  or  five  intimate  friends 
who  were  at  hberty  to  go  there.  Talking  Ute-h-tete  with 
him  in  the  garden,  we  fell  insensibly  on  the  Due  de  Bour- 
gogne,  and  I  did  not  conceal  from  him  what  I  thought  of 
his  future  conduct.  Though  this  subject  had  often  been 
mentioned  between  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers  and  me,  it  so 
happened  that  we  had  never  talked  it  over  so  extensively, 
nor  had  he  ever  been  so  much  struck  with  my  sentiments 
on  the  subject.  The  conversation  turned  after  a  while  to 
other  things,  and  we  did  not  leave  the  garden  and  this  long 
tete-ii-tete  till  dinner  was  sensed.  On  leaving  the  table  IM. 
de  Beauvilhers,  who  had  been  reflecting  on  our  conversation, 
asked  me  to  take  another  turn  in  the  garden  with  him,  and 
to  repeat  what  I  had  already  said  to  him  about  the  Due  de 
Bourgogne,  and  to  add  whatever  came  into  my  mind  now 
that  we  had  more  time  and  leisure  than  in  the  morning.  I 
objected,  on  the  ground  that  he  could  not  have  forgotten  what 
I  had  said,  and  moreover,  I  thought  that  I  had  said  nearly 
all  that  there  was  to  say.  He  urged  me  and  I  obeyed.  The 
conversation  was  long  and  little  was  contradicted.  \Vlien  it 
was  over  he  asked  me  to  put  in  v/riting  what  I  thought 
about  the  conduct  of  the  prince,  and  how  it  might  be  cor- 
rected and  improved.  The  proposal  surprised  me  ;  he  urged 
me ;  I  objected,  and  I  asked  him  what  he  wanted  to  do  with 
it.  He  replied  that  a  discourse  of  that  nature  might  do 
great  good  to  the  Due  de  Bourgogne,  or  at  any  rate  be  use- 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  201 

fill  to  himself  in  speaking  to  the  prince.  I  still  objected- 
intrenching  myself  on  the  danger  of  letting  these  royal  people 
discover  how  well  we  understood  them.  He  assured  me  as 
to  that,  on  the  virtue  and  the  manner  of  thinking  of  the  Due 
de  Bourgogne ;  and  finally  we  mutually  capitulated,  —  I  that 
I  would  write  the  paper,  he  that  he  would  make  no  use  of  it 
without  my  consent.  We  then  separated  to  return  to  the 
company  in  the  house ;  I  being  much  surprised  at  what  he 
required  of  me,  but  resolved  nevertheless  to  obey  him  by  a 
so-called  discourse  on  the  Due  de  Bourgogne.  I  began  to 
work  at  it  a  few  days  later. 

It  must  be  said,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  Due  de  Bour- 
gogne was  bom  with  a  nature  to  make  one  tremble.     He 
was  passionate  to  a  degree  that  made  him  break 

Crayon  of  the  . 

Ducde  his   clocks   when  they  struck  the   hour   to   do 

ourgogne.  something  he  did  not  wish  to  do,  and  fly  into 
a  rage  in  the  strangest  manner  against  the  rain  if  it  pre- 
vented him  from  doing  as  he  wanted.  Resistance  made  him 
furious ;  I  was  often  a  witness  of  it  in  his  early  youth. 
Moreover,  an  ardent  liking  led  him  to  all  that  is  forbidden 
to  both  body  and  mind.  His  satire  was  the  more  cruel 
because  it  was  witty  and  spiced ;  and  he  caught  all  absurdi- 
ties with  the  keenest  accuracy.  All  this  was  still  farther 
sharpened  by  a  vivacity  of  body  and  mind  which  amounted 
to  impetuosity,  and  in  those  early  days  would  not  allow  him 
to  learn  anything  except  by  doing  two  things  at  once.  All 
that  wa'-.  pleasure  ho  loved  with  a  violent  passion,  and  with 
a  pride  and  liau^litirioss  impossible  to  express  ;  he  was  ilau- 
geroiiH,  moreover,  in  liis  (lisfoinmcnl  oi'  men  and  lli:n_^!;s,  and 
in  perceiving  the  wciakness  of  an  argument,  and  arguing  hini- 
Eclf  more  powerfnlly  and  ])rol'oun(lly  than  his  masters.  But 
also,  as  soon  as  tli(!  jiasnion  liad  passed,  reason  assorted  itself 
and   siirnioimLed   nil  ;    Ik;    felt   lii.s    faults,   lie   uckunwledi.MMl 


202  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  vii. 

them,  and  sometimes  with  such  vexation  that  he  recalled 
their  fury.  His  was  a  spirit  keen,  active,  piercing,  stiffening 
itself  against  difficulties,  and  literally  superior  in  all  direc- 
tions. The  wonder  is  that  in  a  very  short  time  after  God 
had  touched  him  religion  and  grace  made  another  man  of 
him,  and  changed  these  great  and  formidable  defects  into 
virtues  that  were  absolutely  contrary. 

This  prince,  who  had  always  had  a  taste  and  a  facihty  for 
the  abstract  sciences,  now  put  them  in  the  place  of  pleasures ; 
the  attraction  of  which  continuing  to  exist  for  him  made 
him  shun  them  with  fear,  even  the  most  innocent.  All  of 
which,  joined  to  the  slavery  of  charity  to  the  neighbour 
(if  I  dare  hazard  that  remark),  in  a  novice  who  at  first 
aimed  in  everything  toward  perfection,  who  was  ignorant 
of  the  hmitations  of  things,  and  whose  timidity  embarrassed 
him  for  want  of  knowing  what  to  say  and  what  to  do 
between  God,  whom  he  feared  to  offend,  and  the  world,  with 
whom  this  perpetual  restraint  put  him  wrong,  —  all  this,  I 
say,  threw  him  into  a  lonely  hfe,  because  he  found  no 
freedom  unless  alone,  and  also  because  his  own  mind  and 
the  sciences  supph'ed  him  with  the  means  to  escape  ennui ; 
besides  which,  prayer  took  up  much  of  his  time.  The  vio- 
lence he  had  done  himself  in  regard  to  so  many  defects 
and  all  so  vehement,  tliis  desire  for  perfection,  the  ignorance, 
the  fear,  the  Httle  discernment  which  always  accompanies 
a  dawning  devotion,  made  him  excessive  in  this  assault 
upon  his  faults,  and  inspired  him  with  an  austerity  which 
exaggerated  everything  and  gave  him  a  constrained  and, 
without  his  knowing  it,  a  censorious  air,  which  ahenated 
Monseigneur  more  and  more,  and  even  irritated  the  king. 
I  will  give  an  instance  among  a  thousand,  which,  starting 
from  an  excellent  principle,  enraged  the  king  and  revolted 
the  whole  Court.     We  were  at  Marlv,  where  there  was  to 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  203 

be  a  ball  on  the  evening  of  the  Epiphany.  The  Due  de 
Bourgogne  refused  to  be  present,  and  let  it  be  known  in 
time  for  the  king,  who  thought  it  wrong,  to  speak  to  him, 
first  in  a  jesting  way,  then  bitterly,  and  tinally  very  seriously 
and  much  piqued  to  feel  himself  condemned  by  his  grand- 
son. The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  her  ladies,  and  even 
M.  de  BeauvilUers  could  not  persuade  him.  He  confined 
himself  to  saying  that  the  king  was  master,  and  he  did  not 
take  the  liberty  of  blaming  him  for  anything  he  did,  but 
that  the  Epiphany  was  a  triple  festival,  that  of  Christians 
especially,  on  account  of  the  worship  of  the  gentiles  and 
the  baptism  of  Jesus  Christ,  and  he  believed  that  he  ought 
not  to  profane  it  by  turning  from  the  duties  he  owed  to  so 
holy  a  day  to  a  spectacle  which,  at  the  best,  was  only 
endurable  on  ordinary  occasions.  It  was  useless  to  point 
out  to  him  that,  having  given  the  morning  and  the  after- 
noon to  the  services  of  the  Church,  and  several  other  hours 
to  prayer  in  his  cabinet,  he  could,  and  ought,  to  give  up  his 
evening  with  the  respect  and  compliance  of  a  son  and  a 
subject.  It  was  all  in  vain ;  except  for  the  time  of  the 
king's  supper,  he  shut  himself  up  the  whole  evening  in  his 
cabinet. 

With  this  austerity,  he  had  retained  from  his  education 
a  preciseness  and  literalness  which  spread  themselves  over 
everything,  and  hampered  him  and  others  with  him,  among 
whom  lie  was  like  a  man  uneasy  and  in  haste  to  get  away, 
as  if  he  liad  soniclJuiig  else  to  do  and  felt  that  ho  was  losing 
time  that  might  be  better  employed.  Yet  in  another  respect 
he  was  very  like  those  young  seminary  lads  who,  chained 
down  all  day  to  their  excrciaca,  got  their  compensation 
during  recreation  by  making  nil  the  noise  and  silly  non- 
sense that  tli(!y  can.  The  young  princo  was  ])asaionately 
in  lov(i  wilJi  liis  wife;  ho  gave  himself  up  to  it  like  a  man 


204  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,    [chap.  vii. 

severely  restrained  in  other  ways,  and  sometimes  he  amused 
himseli;  with  her  younger  ladies  in  private  like  a  schoolboy 
on  a  holiday,  they  being  giddy  and  audacious  in  their 
youthfuluess. 

His  first  two  campaigns  had  been  extremely  favourable 
to  him,  especially  in  this  that  being  removed  from  the  ob- 
jects of  his  great  timidity  and  that  of  his  love,  he  was  more 
himself,  and  showed  his  nature  more  openly,  dehvered  as 
he  was  from  the  shackles  of  charity  to  one's  neighbour 
by  the  circumstances  of  war,  which  form  the  chief  topic  of 
conversation  in  a  campaign ;  so  that  the  intelligence,  frank- 
ness, and  penetration  that  lie  manifested  gave  the  highest 
hopes  of  him.  The  third  campaign  was  disastrous  to  him, 
as  I  have  already  related,  because  he  felt  from  the  start, 
and  ever  more  and  more,  that  he  had  to  do  (a  thing  as 
monstrous  as  it  is  true)  with  something  stronger  than  him- 
self in  the  Court  and  world ;  and  because  the  overbearing 
Vendome,  seconded  by  the  cabal,  seized  upon  his  weakness 
and  worked  it  to  the  last  point.  This  weakness  of  the 
prince  was  that  misplaced  scrupulosity,  that  piety  so  ill- 
understood,  which  made,  strangely  enough,  of  the  hammer  an 
anvil  and  of  the  anvil  a  hammer,  from  which  he  never 
afterwards  recovered. 

M.  de  Beauvilliers  wished,  when  I  gave  him  the  discourse 
I  had  prepared,  to  show  it  to  the  prince  in  my  name,  telling 
him  naturally  how  it  happened  that  he  had  asked  for  it. 
I  exclaimed  upon  the  danger;  and  after  a  long  struggle 
neither  he  could  obtain  my  consent  nor  I  his  promise  to 
give  up  the  idea ;  he  proposed  to  me,  in  fact,  to  refer  the 
question  to  the  Due  de  Chevreuse.  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon 
had  been  greatly  vexed  at  the  engagement  I  had  been  led 
to  make  at  Vaucresson,  in  the  fear  that  after  I  had  written 
my  paper  I  should  no  longer  be  master  of  it.     But  she  was 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  205 

very  much  more  so  when  she  heard  of  the  Due  de  Beau- 
vilUers'  passion  for  showing  it,  and  she  resisted  the  idea 
with  all  her  force.  I  was  much  torn  between  her  trouble 
and  her  great  good  sense,  so  often  proved,  and  my  extreme 
deference  for  M.  de  Beauvilliers,  increased  on  this  occasion, 
to  tell  the  truth,  by  a  little  silly  vanity.  We  agreed,  she 
and  I,  to  take  the  advice  of  a  very  great  friend,  and  a  person 
most  proper  to  consult  from  his  honesty,  his  intellect,  his 
knowledge  of  the  world,  and  particularly  of  the  Due  de 
Bourgogne.  This  was  Cheverny,  whom  the  king  had 
attached  to  his  grandson,  and  whom  I  have  already 
mentioned  once  or  twice.  My  paper  was  read  between  us 
three ;  I  was  paid  in  praises  and  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon's  ap- 
probation. Cheverny  thought  as  she  did,  that  it  was  very 
dangerous  to  show  it  to  the  man  about  whom  it  was  written ; 
or  even  to  let  him  see  parts  of  it  without  naming  me,  because 
my  style  was  recognizable,  and  because  it  was  impossible 
that  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers  would  ask  for  such  a  paper 
from  anybody  else.  Therefore  we  agreed  that,  no  matter 
what  the  two  dukes  might  say  and  wish,  I  should  not  allow 
my  discourse  to  be  given  to  the  Due  de  Bourgogne,  who, 
saint  as  he  was,  might  be  irritated  (if  not  now,  at  least  in 
future  years)  to  see  himself  so  transparent  to  my  eyes,  and 
also  blamed  for  things  he  would  not  change,  such  change 
indeed  being  difficult   to  hope  for. 

This  wise  resolution  taken,  I  submitted  my  paper  to  the 
examination  of  the  Due  do  Chevrcuse,  to  wliom  I  had  sent 
a  copy  that  lie  miglit  have  time  to  think  it  over.  He  ap- 
proved of  the  work  extremely,  but  was  fortunately  of  opinion 
that  it  ought  not  to  bo  shown ;  which  got  me  out  of  my 
cmbarrassmctit;  but  he  condemned  mo  to  leave  my  paper 
in  their  hands,  in  perfect  security  that  it  would  not  leave 
tlioin,  and  to  consent  that  from  time  to  time  they  should  lot 


206  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap,  til 

fly  some  detached  portions  of  it  on  the  prince,  which  could 
be  done  without  danger.  M.  de  Beauvilhers  submitted,  and 
I  too,  after  Cheverny  and  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  had  judged 
that  in  this  there  would  be  no  impropriety.  The  two  dukes 
never  knew  that  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  and  I  had  taken 
Cheverny  into  confidence.  It  is  the  misfortune  of  the  best 
princes,  those  most  concerned  about  their  salvation  and 
their  humility,  to  be  more  able  to  bear  opprobrium,  to  the 
last  point  of  indecency  and  danger,  than  to  accept  the  salu- 
tary and  cautious  warnings  of  their  most  faithful  servants. 

During   the  period  when   the   first   effective  steps   were 

taken  for  the  marriage  of  the  Due  de  Berry  with  Mademoiselle, 

the  Duchesse  d'Orldans  asked  me  one  day,  in 

Efforts  of  the  •^ ' 

Duchesse  d'Or-  a  tonc  too  significant  not  to  be  understood, 
Mme.  de  Saint-  who,  I  tliought,  could  bc  givcn  as  lady  of 
Simon  lady  of       houour  to   her  daughter  in  case  she  became 

honour  to  the  *3 

future  Duchesse     Duchcssc  dc  Berry.     I  at  once  perceived  her 

de  Berry. 

meaning,  and  answered,  in  a  firm  and  decided 
tone,  that  it  was  best  to  think  only  of  making  the  marriage, 
after  which  it  would  be  time  enough  to  select  the  lady  of 
honour,  for  which  place  persons  would  not  be  lacking.  She 
was  silent  at  once  ;  the  Due  d'Orldans  said  not  a  word,  and 
I  changed  the  topic  of  conversation.  From  that  moment, 
throughout  the  great  struggle  about  the  marriage,^  she  said 
no  more  about  the  lady  of  honour,  until  one  day  when  she 
was  in  her  bed  and  I  was  with  her,  ttte-h-tUe,  suddenly,  in 
the  midst  of  a  very  important  conversation  about  the  mar- 
riage, she  interrupted  herself  to  say  :  "  If  this  affair  succeeds, 
we  should  only  be  too  happy  to  have  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon 
for  lady  of  honour."     "  Madame,"  I  answered, "  your  kindness 

^  Too  long  and  complicated  for  this  abridgment.  Saint-Simon  was 
very  instrumental  in  bringing  the  marriage  about  through  the  Dues  de 
Beauvilliers  and  Chevreuse,  the  Jesuits  and  Pere  Tellier,  aud  other  per- 
sons in  the  cabal  of  the  seigneurs.  — Te, 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  207 

for  her  makes  you  say  that.  She  is  too  young,  and  not  at  all 
capable  of  that  employment."  "  But  why  ?  "  she  continued ; 
and  then  she  praised  her  in  every  way. 

After  listening  for  some  moments  I  interrupted  her  myself, 
assuring  her  that  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  was  not  suitable  for 
the  place ;  and  then  I  began  to  name  others,  who  were  more 
in  her  intimacy  or  connection.  To  all  of  them  she  found 
some  objection,  which  I,  in  turn,  argued  about  vainly.  I 
told  her  finally  that  I  would  bring  her  a  list  of  all  the 
titled  ladies,  from  which  it  was  impossible  not  to  find  several 
suitable  persons,  and  that  she  herself  would  see  it  so.  Then 
I  changed  the  conversation  instantly. 

This  attack,  so  keen  and  undisguised,  gave  me  much  un- 
easiness, and  still  more  to  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon.  She  and  I 
abhorred  a  situation  so  much  beneath  our  birth  and  dignity, 
and  while  we  understood  that  royal  pride  would  require  a 
woman  of  high  position  and  a  duchess,  we  did  not  wish  to 
have  the  degradation  fall  on  us.  We  thought  it  best  to  take 
our  measures  to  prevent  it  early ;  I  to  speak  plainly  to  the 
Due  de  Beauvilliers,  and  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  to  the  Duchesse 
de  Bourgogne.  This  resolution  taken,  I  spoke  to  the  Due  de 
Beauvilliers  and  told  him  of  my  aversion  and  that  of  Mme. 
do  Saint-Simon  for  such  a  place.  I  assured  hhn  that  if  it 
were  offered  to  us  we  should  refuse  it,  and  I  conjured  him  to 
prevent  the  idea  if  those  who  would  make  the  choice  com- 
municated it  to  liim.     lie  approved  of  this  and  promised  me. 

The  Duclicsso  de  Bourgogne  had  continued  for  many 
years  to  profess  a  solid  friendship  for  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon, 
to  whom  she  had  given  many  proofs  of  it.  The  audience 
was  no  sooner  asked  tlian  granted.  After  the  first  comjili- 
nieulB,  Mine,  do  .Saint-Sinioii  told  her  that  she  being  Iut 
great  resource,  and  licr  tried  resource,  slio  had  conic  \vi(h 
conQdonce  to  ii.sk  ii  favoui'  nl'lcr  hesitating  a  long  time;  hut 


208  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,    [chap.  vii. 

the  matter  was  now  so  imminent,  and  as  it  concerned  a 
marriage  which  the  princess  desired  and  was  promoting  her- 
self —  At  these  words  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  inter- 
rupted her,  and  kissing  her  warmly  said,  "  The  marriage  of 
the  Due  de  Berry,  and  you  want  the  place  of  lady  of  honour ; 
I  haA^e  already  thought  of  it ;  you  must  have  it."  "  But  it  is 
precisely  not  to  have  it  that  I  have  come  to  you." 

Who  can  describe  the  amazement  of  the  Duchesse  de 
Bouruocjne  at  this  answer  ?  After  a  moment's  silence  she 
asked  the  reason.  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  replied  that  all  her 
desire  was  to  be  a  lady  of  the  palace  near  herself,  that  she,  the 
princess,  had  all  her  heart  and  all  her  respect,  that  she  should 
never  feel  to  another  princess  as  she  did  to  her,  and  if  she 
could  not  become  a  lady  of  the  palace  she  should  be  content 
and  happy  to  remain  as  she  was  and  be  able  to  make  her  court 
to  her.  The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  then  told  her  it  was  out 
of  friendship  for  her  and  interest  for  herself  that  she  had 
thought  of  her  as  lady  of  honour  as  soon  as  she  saw  that  the 
marriage  was  likely  to  be  made ;  that  the  Duchesse  du  Lude, 
already  so  infirm,  was  not  eternal ;  and  that  Mme.  de  Saint- 
Simon  could  very  well  and  very  jDroperly  replace  her,  which, 
she  said,  she  passionately  desired,  and  that  with  this  idea  she 
had  thought  of  making  her  lady  of  honour  to  the  Duchesse 
de  Berry,  so  as  to  remove  the  objection  of  her  youth  and 
bring  her  nearer  to  the  king,  in  the  event  of  her  soon  needing 
a  new  lady  of  honour.  To  this  she  added  that  this  refusal 
would  irritate  the  king.  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  agreed  that  a 
refusal  would  ruin  us  beyond  redemption,  and  said  it  was  for 
that  very  reason  she  had  come  to  her,  because  we  were 
firmly  resolved  to  refuse  if  the  matter  should  come  to  a 
point.  After  much  general  talk  the  princess  said  that  she 
saw  no  lady  suitable  for  the  place  nor  one  that  would  please 
the  king ;  but  she   promised  to  do  her  best  to  prevent  its 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  209 

being  offered  to  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon,  adding,  however,  that 
the  appointment  might  be  done  without  her  knowledge  and 
she  not  be  able  to  prevent  it ;  but  she  promised  in  good  faith 
to  do  her  best,  although  it  was  against  her  wishes  and 
against  her  feelings. 

Eeturning  from  Saint-Maur,  where  we  had  passed  nearly 

the  whole  day  with  the  Abbd  de  Verneuil,  brother  of  the 

Due  de  La  Eochefoucauld,  whom  we  took  with 

Announcement 

of  tiie  marriage      -qs,  I  found  a  noto  On  reaching  home  at  seven 

of  the  Due  de 

Berry  to  Made-  m  the  cvcnmg  from  the  Due  d'Orldans,  which 
moiseiie.  ^^^  ^^  -^{q  servants  had  dehvered  soon  after 

mid-day.  I  did  not  open  the  note  till  I  went  up  to  my 
mother's  room,  where  I  was  alone  with  her  and  Mme.  de 
Saint-Simon.  The  outside  was  in  the  writing  of  the  Due 
d'Orldans,  but  the  inside,  very  short,  was  in  that  of  the 
Duchesse  d'Orldans,  and  the  first  three  words  were :  Veni, 
vidi,  vici  To  which  she  added  that  I  should  know  it  was 
the  Due  d'Orl^ans  that  dictated  them ;  and  without  saying 
more  she  charged  me  to  secrecy  until  the  declaration  was 
made  public.  After  my  first  effusion  of  joy,  in  which  Mme. 
de  Saint-Simon,  as  if  from  a  secret  presentiment,  took  only 
a  share  from  civility,  I  began  to  be  uneasy  at  the  delay  of 
the  declaration.  While  I  was  wondering  what  could  retard 
it,  a  footman  of  the  Due  d'Orldans  was  announced  to  me,  who, 
without  a  letter,  brought  me  a  message  from  Mademoiselle, 
informing  mo  of  the  declaration  of  Ikm-  marriage,  which 
phe  sent  mo  as  soon  as  she  hoard  it  herself  and  by  (he  same 
messenger.  Then  indeed  my  joy  was  comjilete.  The  tri- 
umph and  safety  of  those  to  whom  T  was  nttaohed,  the  siir- 
y)iis(',  ,'iiid  vcxjilioti  nf  lluc-c.  to  whom  I  wns  not  nttacho'l,^ 
th(i  gtiiiilicd  self-love,  of  such  a  nuccciss  in  which   T  had  hiul 

'  'I'lic  Mnultm  nil'Ml  Inn!  rnilravdnic't  fo  miirry  "lo  Due  t1i>  Hcrry  to 
Mile,  'If  IJ(Hirl)()ii,  dttiighlor  of  Mine.  In  Duulicsee.  —  Tn. 
voi>,  II.  — 14 


210  MEMOIRS  OF   THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap,  vii, 

SO  principal  a  share,  the  total  difference  that  \yould  result  for 
my  present  and  future  position,  —  all  these  things  pleased 
and  flattered  me. 

We  hesitated,  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  and  I,  whether  to  go  or 
not  to  go  to  Versailles  until  a  lady  of  honour  was  appointed. 
But  we  thought  it  too  marked  not  to  present  ourselves  berore 
the  king  on  an  occasion  when  courtesy  would  have  required 
us  to  do  so  in  the  case  of  a  private  person.  The  morning 
after  our  arrival  I  met  the  Due  d'Orl^ans  walking  before  the 
king  on  his  way  to  mass.  He  joined  me  at  once  and  whis- 
pered in  my  ear  (the  first  time  in  his  liie  he  had  ever  done 
so) :  "  Do  you  know  that  much  is  said  about  Mme.  de  Saint- 
Simon  for  lady  of  honour  ? "  "  Yes,  monsieur,"  I  rephed 
with  a  very  grave  air,  "I  have  heard  it  with  surprise,  for 
nothing  would  suit  us  less."  "  But  why  ? "  he  answered 
with  embarrassment.  "  Because,"  I  replied,  "  since  you  will 
know  it,  a  second  place  dees  not  suit  us  and  never  will  suit 
us."  "  Shall  you  refuse  it  ? "  "  Xo,"  I  said  hotly,  "  for  I  am 
not  Hke  Cardinal  de  Bouillon.  I  am  a  subject  of  the  king 
and  bound  to  obey  him  ;  but  he  must  command ;  then  I  will 
obey ;  but  it  will  be  with  the  sharpest  grief  of  which  I  am 
capable,  wdiich  will  not  be  blunted  by  your  quality  as  father 
of  the  princess ;  that  does  not  prevent  us  from  feeling  it  a 
dreadful  bitterness."  So  saying  w'e  reached  the  chapel.  The 
Due  de  Bourgogne,  who  followed  at  our  heels,  advanced 
closer  to  listen  to  what  my  emotion  made  him  curious  to 
hear ;  he  smiled  when  I  turned  my  head  and  saw  him.  The 
Due  d'Orldans  made  no  reply. 

The  king  declared  the  choice  of  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon, 
Sunday  morning,  June  15.  The  Due  d'Orldans  told  me  at 
The  king  declares  the  closc  of  the  king's  mass  that  he  would 
simon?ady^f "  ^l^  ^^'  ^^(1  two  hours  later  he  related  to  me 
honour.  tiiat,  being  with  the   king  and   Monseigneur 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,  211 

before  mass  and  talking  over  this  matter,  the  king  said  to 
him  with  some  uneasiness :  "  But  your  friend  —  I  know  him ; 
he  is  sometimes  odd,  he  may  refuse  me."  On  which  he 
reassured  the  king  by  quoting  what  I  had  said  of  the  Cardi- 
nal de  Bouillon,  and  the  king  then  spoke  of  my  vivacity 
about  various  matters,  but  vaguely,  and  with  esteem,  though 
still  as  if  uneasy  about  the  present  matter  and  desirous  that 
I  should  take  care  what  I  did  ;  all  of  which  he  assuredly 
said  to  his  nephew  in  order  to  have  it  come  round  to  me. 

On  returning  from  mass,  the  king  called  to  me  in  the 
gallery,  said  he  wanted  to  speak  to  me,  and  told  me  to  follow 
him  into  his  cabinet.  He  went  to  a  little  table  against  the 
wall,  far  away  from  all  who  were  in  the  cabinet.  There  he 
told  me  he  had  chosen  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  as  lady  of 
honour  to  the  future  Duchesse  de  Berry  ;  that  it  was  as 
a  peculiar  mark  of  the  esteem  he  felt  for  her  virtue  and 
merit  that  he  confided  to  her  at  the  age  of  thirty-two  the 
care  of  a  princess  so  young  and  so  near  to  him ;  and  also  a 
mark  that  he  was  fully  persuaded  of  what  I  had  said  to  him 
some  months  ago  of  my  desire  to  be  nearer  to  him.  I  made 
a  medium  sort  of  bow,  and  replied  that  I  was  touched  by  the 
honour  of  his  confidence  in  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  at  her  age, 
but  what  gave  me  most  pleasure  was  the  assurance  I  re- 
ceived from  his  Majesty  that  he  was  satisfied  with  me. 
After  this  laconic  response,  which  let  him  sec  in  all  respects 
wliat  I  felt  about  the  place,  he  went  on  for  some  time  to  say 
very  obliging  things  of  Mme.  do  Saint-Simon  and  me,  as  he 
knew  better  than  any  otlior  man  in  the  world  how  to  do 
wluiii  li(!  liked,  and  above  all  wlicn  ho  presented  a  bitter  pill 
wliicli  he  wanted  to  liavo  swallowed.  Then,  looking  at  mo 
more  attentively,  with  a  Rniilo  (hat  was  nuMint  to  please,  ho 
afldc-d  :  "  I>iit  you  must  iiold  your  tongue,"  —  in  a  tone  of 
familiarity  which  scenic:!  to  demand  the  .sanui  on   my  part; 


212  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  vii. 

and  so  I  replied  that  I  had  held  it,  especially  of  late,  and  I 
intended  to  hold  it  always.  At  which  he  smiled  with  more 
expansion  than  ever,  like  a  man  who  understood  the  thing 
well  and  was  comforted  not  to  have  met  with  the  resistance 
he  apprehended ;  and  one  also  who  was  content  with  the 
sort  of  freedom  he  met  with,  which  let  him  feel  the  sacrifice 
that  was  made  to  him  without  his  ears  being  wounded  by  it. 
He  immediately  turned  round  with  his  back  against  the  wall, 
and,  looking  a  little  at  me,  and  then  all  about  him,  he  said  to 
the  company  in  a  grave,  magisterial  tone,  but  loudly  :  "  Mme. 
la  Duchesse  de  Saint-Simon  is  lady  of  honour  to  the  future 
Duchesse  de  Beny."  Instantly  a  chorus  of  applause  at  the 
choice,  and  of  praises  for  the  chosen ;  and  the  king,  without 
saying  another  word,  passed  into  his  inner  cabinet. 

The  king  put  in  much  seasoning  to  make  the  place  less 
intolerable,  and  without  our  having  said  or  insinuated  the 
slightest  desires.  He  declared  that  so  long  as  the  Due  de 
Berry  continued  to  be  grandson  or  son  of  the  king,  the  places 
of  the  Duchesse  du  Lude  and  that  of  the  Duchesse  de  Saint- 
Simon  were  equal.  He  willed  that  the  emoluments  should 
be  the  same,  and  of  the  same  sort ;  that  is,  twenty  thousand 
francs,  and  nine  thousand  francs  in  other  ways.  He  took 
marked  pains  to  give  us  the  most  agreeable  apartment  at 
Versailles;  dislodging  for  that  purpose  d'Antin  and  the 
Duchesse  Sforza,  to  make  us  one  complete  suite  of  rooms 
out  of  two.  He  added  kitcliens  on  the  court  below,  a  most 
unusual  thing  at  the  chateau,  because  we  had  always  had 
company  to  dinner,  and  often  to  supper,  ever  since  we  had 
been  at  the  Court.  At  the  fame  time  the  king  announced 
thit  the  rest  of  the  household  of  the  future  Duchesse  de 
Berry  would  be  on  the  footing  of  that  of  Madame.  Thus  all 
the  distinction  was  pointedly  shown  to  be  for  ]\Ime.  de  Saint- 
Simon  personally,  and  that  mad^  another  great  noise. 


VIII. 

On  Sunday,  July  6,  the  marriage  of  the  Due  de  Berry  and 
Mademoiselle  was  celebrated  in  the  chapel  by  Cardinal  de 
Marriage  of  the  J^uson,  the  grand  almoner.  Two  almoners  of 
Due  de  Berry  and   the  king  held  the  canopy ;  the  king,  the  royal 

Mademoiselle.  ^ ''  ^  ■^ 

personages,  the  princes  and  princesses  of  the 
blood,  and  the  bastards  were  present ;  many  duchesses  on 
their  hassocks,  in  the  suite  of  the  princesses  of  the  blood ; 
and  the  Dues  de  la  Tr^moille,  de  Chevreuse,  de  Luynes,  his 
grandson,  seventeen  years  old,  Beauvilliers,  Aumont,  Charost, 
de  Eohan  and  several  others  on  theirs ;  none  of  the  foreign 
princes,  but  some  of  the  foreign  princesses  on  then-  hassocks 
among  the  duchesses  ;  and  a  magnificent  array  in  the  trib- 
unes, where  I  put  myself  to  gaze  down  at  my  ease  on  the 
ceremony  ;  many  ladies  were  below  the  hassocks,  and  men 
behind  the  ladies.  After  the  mass  was  over,  the  rector 
brought  his  register  to  the  king's  pric-dicu,  where  he  and  the 
royal  personages  signed  it,  but  no  prince  or  princess  of  the 
blood,  except  the  children  of  the  Due  d'Orldans.  It  was  then 
that  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  left  her  hassock,  which  was  on 
the  left  near  the  gate  of  the  chancel,  and  came  over  and 
placed  herself  bcliind  the  Duchesse  de  Berry  as  she  was 
about  to  sign.  The  signing  over,  the  coni])any  left  tlie 
C'liape].  All  ])crsoM8  diiicid  in  their  own  a])!iitnients,  tlu'  king 
at  his  private  dinner,  and  the  bride  and  bridegroom  with  the 
DuclicHsc  de  I'ourgogne,  who  kept  them  until  evening,  with 
curdw  in  the;  Halon  which  (lonnects  the  gallery  with  her  npiirt- 
luciiL.     Thi^  whole  (Jourt  (locki'd  there. 


21i        MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  viii. 

The  next  day  the  king,  coming  from  mass,  made  a  visit 
on  the  Duchesse  de  Berry.  When  she  was  seated  at  her 
toilet,  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  presented  and  named  to  her 
the  whole  Court  as  though  she  w^ere  a  stranger,  and  made 
her  kiss  all  the  titled  men  and  women.  After  which,  the 
royal  persons,  and  the  princes  and  princesses  of  the  blood 
came  to  the  toilet.  When  dinner  was  over,  cards,  as  before, 
in  the  salon ;  where  the  king  had  ordered  the  ladies  to  appear 
in  full  dress  to  receive  the  Queen  and  the  Princess  of  Eng- 
land ;  the  King  of  England  being  with  the  army  in  Flanders, 
as  the  year  before. 

The  queen  and  the  princess,  her  daughter,  went  to  see 
Monseigneur,  who  was  playing  cards  in  the  apartment  of  the 
Princesse  de  Conti,  then  to  Mme.  de  Mainteuon's  room,  where 
the  king  was.  Afterwards  they  came  to  the  salon  to  see  the 
Due  and  Duchesse  de  Bourgogiie,  and  ended  by  visiting  the 
newly  married  pair ;  after  whicli,  they  returned  to  Chaillot, 
and  there  was  no  further  mention  of  the  wedding.  The 
Queen  and  Princess  of  England,  who  had  always  hoped  that 
the  princess  herself  would  make  this  marriage,  as  indeed  it 
was  generally  supposed  she  would,  did  not  do  themselves 
any  justice  in  this  affair.  They  were  broken-hearted.  For 
that  reason,  the  king  wished  to  spare  them  the  wedding, 
and  even  the  ceremonies  of  this  visit,  which  he  ruled  to  be 
managed  as  I  have  just  reported. 

The  following  Wednesday  the  Court  went  to  Marly,  the 
king,  who  had  made  a  very  mediocre  present  of  jewelry  to 
the  Duchesse  de  Berry,  gave  nothing  to  the  Due  de  Berry, 
who  had  so  little  money  he  was  unable  to  play  cards  during 
the  first  days  of  this  trip.  Mme.  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne 
told  this  to  the  king,  who,  feeling  the  condition  he  was  in 
himself,  consulted  her,  saying  that  he  had  only  five  hun- 
dred pistoles  that  he  could  give  him ;    and   the  Duchesse 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  215 

de  Bourgogne,  justly  thinking  that  a  little  was  better  than 
nothing  and  not  being  able  to  play  at  all,  the  king  gave 
them  to  his  grandson,  with  excuses  about  the  badness  of 
the  times. 

This  trip  to  Marly  caused  the  return  of  the  Duchesse  de 
Berry's  sisters  to  their  convent  at  Chelles,  whence  they  had 
been  brought  for  the  ceremony,  and  the  release  of  Mme. 
de  Mard.  The  latter  had  been  governess  of  Monsieur's 
children,  and  had  always  remained  with  those  of  the  Due 
d'Orl^ans,  enjoying  the  highest  consideration.  The  king  and 
Mme.  de  Main  tenon  hoped  she  would  be  lady  of  the  bed- 
chamber to  the  Duchesse  de  Berry,  whom  she  had  brought 
up,  and  to  whom  she  seemed  much  attached,  and  Mademoi- 
selle to  her.  The  Due  and  Duchesse  d'Orl^ans  wished  it 
also.  But  no  matter  how  long  or  how  pressing  the  entreaties 
were,  even  from  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  she  could  not  be 
persuaded  to  agree  to  them. 

We  were  not  long,  alas  !  in  discovering  the  cause  of  her 
obstinate  resistance  to  continue  near  the  Duchesse  de  Berry. 
Melancholy  "^'^^^  morc  that  priuccss  allowed  herself  to  be 

reflections.  known  (and  she  now  did  not  restrain  hersell"), 

the  more  we  found  that  Mme.  de  Mard  had  acted  wisely  ;  the 
more  we  wondered  by  what  miracle  of  care  and  prudence 
nothing  had  been  suffered  to  transpire ;  the  more  we  felt  how 
blindly  people  act  in  what  they  desire  with  passion,  finding 
that  success  brings  only  pain,  and  joy  but  travail ;  and 
the  Tnon;  we  groaned  over  the  disaster  of  having  triumphed 
in  ;in  allair  of  which  had  I  but  known  a  soini-quarter  — 
wh;i(,  !i,Mi  T  saying?  a  thousandtli  part  —  of  wliat  we  now  so 
unliap[)ily  witnessed,  I  would  liavc  thwarted  it  with  nil  my 
pow(!r.  T  shall  say  no  more  for  tlie  ]ircsent;  and  in  tho 
futnn;  I  shall  only  say  thrit  which  cannot  bo  concealed. 
r  merely  iniuiliun  llic,  iii;i(.U'r  now  because  the  many  strango 


216        MEMOIRS  or  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,    [chap.  vni. 

things  of  all  sorts  that  soon  occurred  began  to  dawn,  and 
even  to  develop,  during  this  very  trip  to  Marly. 

Mme.  de  La  Yalli^re  died  about  this  time  at  the  Carmel- 
ites in  the  rue  Saint-Jacques,  where  she  had  taken  the  veil 
DeathofMme.de  ^  JuuB,  1675,  uudcr  the  name  of  Sister  Mary 
LaVaiiiire.  q£    Mercy,  being   then    thirty-one   years   old. 

Her  favour  and  her  shame ;  the  modesty  and  kindness  she 
exhibited ;  the  good  faith  of  her  heart,  without  any  mixture ; 
the  efforts  she  employed  to  prevent  the  king  from  eternal- 
izing the  memory  of  her  weakness  and  sin  by  recognizing 
and  legitimating  the  children  he  had  by  her ;  what  she 
suffered  from  the  king  and  from  Mme.  de  Montespan ;  her 
two  flights  from  Court,  one  to  the  Benedictines  of  Saint- 
Cloud,  where  the  king  went  in  person  to  demand  her  return, 
ready  to  burn  the  convent  if  opposed,  the  other  to  the  Filles 
de  Sainte-Marie  de  Chaillot,  where  the  king  sent  IMonsieur 
de  Lauzun,  captain  of  his  guards,  with  orders  to  batter  in 
the  convent,  and  who  brought  her  back  to  him  ;  that  public 
farewell,  so  touching,  to  the  queen,  whom  she  had  always 
respected  and  spared,  and  that  humble  pardon  she  asked  of 
her,  prostrate  at  her  feet  before  the  whole  Court,  on  leav- 
ing for  the  Carmelites ;  the  repentance  so  fully  maintained 
all  the  days  of  her  life  and  far  beyond  the  austerities  of  her 
Order ;  that  continual  recollection  of  her  sin,  that  constant 
estrangement  from  the  interests  of  hfe  and  from  taking  part 
in  anything,  no  matter  what,  —  all  these  things  mostly  be- 
long to  a  period  that  is  not  of  my  time,  and  but  httle  of  my 
subject ;  nor  is  the  faith,  humility,  and  strength  she  showed 
at  the  death  of  her  son,  the  Comte  de  Vermandois,  any 
more  so. 

The  Princesse  de  Conti  invariably  rendered  her  great  duty 
and  great  attentions,  which  she  avoided  and  shortened  all 
she   could.     Her   natural   delicacy   of    health   had   suffered 


7/     v'  /V'    / 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  217 

much  from  the  sincere  harshness  of  her  repentance,  affecting 
both  body  and  mind  and  a  sensitive  heart,  sufferings  which 
she  hid  as  much  as  possible.  It  was  discovered  that  she 
had  entirely  abstained  from  drinking  during  a  whole  year, 
from  which  she  fell  ill,  and  came  near  dying.  Her  infirmities 
increased,  and  she  died  at  last  of  a  rupture,  in  great  suffering, 
with  aU  the  signs  of  sanctity,  in  the  midst  of  the  Sisters,  to 
whom  her  gentleness  and  virtues  had  made  her  a  delight ; 
she  herself  always  believing  and  saying  that  she  was  the 
lowest  among  them,  and  not  v^^orthy  to  live  among  virgins. 
The  Princesf?e  de  Conti  was  not  informed  of  her  illness, 
which  was  rapid,  until  the  last.  She  rushed  there,  arriving 
only  in  time  to  see  her  die.  At  first  she  seemed  afflicted, 
Ijut  was  soon  consoled.  She  received  visits  of  condolence 
from  all  the  Court  on  the  occasion  of  this  loss.  She  ex- 
pected to  receive  one  from  the  king,  and  it  was  much  re- 
marked upon  that  he  did  not  go  to  her. 

He  had  retained  for  Mme.  de  La  Vallih^e  a  cold  esteem 
and  consideration  which  he  expressed  on  rare  occasions  and 
briefly.  Still,  he  wanted  the  queen  and  the  two  dauphines 
to  go  and  see  her,  and  make  her  sit  in  their  presence,  both 
her  and  Mme.  d'Epernon,  who,  although  they  were  nuns, 
had  been  duchesse-;.  He  seemed  very  little  touched  by  her 
death,  and  even  told  the  reason,  namely,  that  she  was  dead 
to  him  the  day  she  entered  the  Carmelites.  The  children 
of  Mine,  de  Montespan  were  greatly  mortified  by  tlie  visits 
])aid  to  the  Princesse  de  Conti  on  tliis  occasion,  —  they  wlio 
ill  like  circumstances  had  not  dared  to  receive  condolences. 
They  were  still  niori!  iii(»ili(ied  when  tliey  saw  the  I'rincesse 
(ie  (Joiiti  in  the  deei)e,st  mourning  I'or  a  mere  nun,  although 
her  mother,  —  they  who  w(jre  none,  not  having  ventured  to 
jtut  on  the  very  slightest  wign  of  mourning  nt  the  death  of 
Mnic.  (1(!  MonteH])!in.     TIk;  king  could  not  n>rusi'  tin    favour 


218         MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAIXT-SIMON.     [chap,  viii 

to  the  Princesse  de  Conti,  who  asked  it  urgently,  but  it  was 
not  to  his  liking.  The  other  bastards  had  to  swallow  a  morti- 
fication which  single  adultery  cast  upon  the  double  adultery 
from  vfhich  they  came ;  thus  making  visible  to  the  eyes  of 
everybody  the  monstrous  horror  of  their  more  tarnished 
birth,  which  hurt  them  cruelly. 

The  impossibility,  too  pitifully  experienced,  of  obtaining 

peace,  and  the  exhaustion  of  the  kingdom,  threw  the  king 

into  the  most  cruel  distress  of  mind,  and  Des- 

The  tithe-tax.  .  n   •    i     p    i  i  mi 

marets  mto  frightful  embarrassment.  The  paper 
of  all  kinds  with  which  commerce  was  now  inundated,  all  of 
which  had  more  or  less  lost  credit,  made  a  chaos  for  which 
no  one  could  conceive  a  remedy.  State  notes,  notes  for 
currency,  notes  of  the  receivers-general,  notes  on  the  taille- 
tax,  notes  on  implements,  were  the  ruin  of  those  whom  the 
king  forced  to  take  them  as  payment  due  from  him,  for  they 
lost  upon  them  one  half  or  two  thirds  or  more.  These  dis- 
counts enriched  the  money-dealers  and  the  financiers,  at  the 
cost  of  the  pubhc  ;  the  circulation  of  money  ceased  because 
specie  was  lacking,  because  the  king  no  longer  paid  it  to  any 
one,  but  drew  it  continually,  and  what  there  was  of  specie 
was  hoarded  in  the  coffers  of  the  tax-coUectors.  The  poll-tax 
was  doubled  or  trebled  at  the  arbitrary  will  of  the  intend- 
ants  of  the  provinces ;  merchandise  and  produce  of  all 
descriptions  were  rated  at  the  quadruple  of  their  value  ; 
taxes  were  laid  on  commodities  of  all  kinds  and  on  all  sorts 
of  things ;  all  of  which  crushed  nobles  and  commoners,  the 
seigneurs  and  the  clergy,  without  producing  revenues  enough 
to  the  king  to  suffice  him,  though  he  drew  the  blood  of  all 
his  subjects  without  distinction,  squeezing  out  their  very 
marrow,  the  collection  of  which  enriched  an  army  of  agents 
and  employes  on  the  divers  forms  of  taxation,  in  whose 
hands  the  greater  part  remained. 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG   DE  SAINT-SIMON.  219 

Desmarets,  in  whom,  at  last,  the  king  was  reduced  to  put 
all  his  confidence  as  to  the  finances,  now  imagined  a  scheme 
to  establish,  in  addition  to  the  existing  taxation,  that  royal 
tithe  upon  all  the  property  of  every  community  and  every 
private  person  in  the  kingdom  which  Mardchal  Vauban 
in  one  form  and  Boisguilbert  in  another  had  formerly  pro- 
posed (I  have  heretofore  reported  it)  as  a  single  and  only 
tax,  which  should  suffice  for  all,  and  enter,  entire,  into  the 
coffers  of  the  king ;  all  other  taxes  being  abolished,  even  the 
tctilk  and  its  very  name.  We  have  seen  in  its  place  how 
the  financiers  had  shuddered  and  the  ministers  had  howled 
at  this  idea,  and  with  what  anathemas  it  had  been  rejected. 
All  that  must  be  remembered  now,  because  Desmarets,  who 
had  never  lost  sight  of  the  system,  had  recourse  to  it,  not 
as  a  relief  and  remedy,  crime  irredeemable  in  financial 
doctrine,  but  as  an  additional  taxation. 

Without  saying  a  word  to  any  one  he  made  his  plan  and 
gave  it  to  be  examined  and  drawn  up  by  a  bureau  composed 
by  himself  expressly  and  solely,  of  Bouville,  councillor  of 
State,  husband  of  his  sister;  Nointel,  councillor  of  State, 
brother  of  his  wife ;  Vaubourg,  councillor  of  State,  his 
brother ;  Bercy,  intendant  of  finances,  his  son-in-law ; 
Tfarlay-Ccoli,  master  of  petitions,  his  confidential  man,  and 
three  leading  financiers.  To  these  men,  so  well-tutored,  it 
was  given  to  digest  the  afifair,  draw  up  the  edict,  and  direct 
its  execution.  Nointel  alone  had  a  horror  of  the  monstrous 
exaction,  and  under  pretence  of  the  work  at  his  olfice  for 
provisioning  the  aniiios,  he  excused  himself  from  taking 
])art  in  the  affair,  and  was  imitated  by  one  of  the  three 
financiers,  in  whom  a])parently  some  sort  of  soul  rcMnaini'd. 
People  wore  surprised  that  Vaubourg  too  did  not  withdraw, 
he  bding  u  iiiuti  of  integrity  i'nd  piety,  who  had  nUircd  from 
an  intendancy,  long  held  by  him,  for  Hcrnple.s  of  conscience. 


220  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAENT-SIMON.     [chap.  viii. 

These  commissioners  worked  with  assiduity  and  took 
great  pains  to  surmount  the  difficulties  which  appeared  on 
all  sides.  In  the  first  place  there  was  that  of  getting  from 
every  individual  a  confession  in  good  faith,  clear  and  pre- 
cise, as  to  his  property,  his  debts,  active  and  passive,  and 
the  nature  of  it  all.  Proofs  had  to  be  exacted  and  means 
found  to  prevent  deception.  Here  alone  they  admitted 
diSiculties.  No  heed  was  paid  to  the  desolation  brought 
by  the  tax  itself  upon  multitudes  of  men  of  all  conditions, 
to  their  despair  at  being  compelled  themselves  to  reveal  the 
secrets  of  their  families,  —  the  turpitude  of  some,  the  means 
supplied  to  others  by  reputation  and  credit  (cessation  of 
which  would  produce  inevitable  ruin),  the  discussion  of  each 
man's  capabilities,  the  explosion  in  famiUes  through  these 
cruel  exhibitions  and  the  lamp  thus  held  to  their  secret 
shames,  —  in  a  word,  all  that  was  most  akin  to  those  impious 
registrations  which  have  always  brought  down  the  wrath  of 
the  Creator  and  the  weight  of  his  hand,  nearly  always  in 
startling  chastisement,  on  those  who  have  made  them. 

Less  than  a  month  sufficed  to  the  penetration  of  these 
commissaries  of  human  beings  to  render  a  good  account  of 
this  tender  project  of  the  Cyclops  who  had  charged  them 
with  it.  He  reviewed  with  them  the  edict  they  had  drawn 
up,  bristling  with  penalties  against  convicted  delinquents, 
but  having  no  regard  to  the  costs  which  property  entails 
by  its  very  nature.  After  tliis,  it  was  only  a  question  of 
getting  it  passed. 

Desmarets  then  proposed  his  project  to  the  king,  making 
his  court  out  of  so  excellent  a  plan.  But  the  king,  how- 
„.    „  ...  ev^er    accustomed  he  might   be   to   levy  enor- 

Pore  Tellier  per-  t>  J 

suaies  th3  king      mous  taxcs,  was  frightened  by  this  one.     For 

that  all  the  prop- 
erly of  his  sub-       a  long  time  he  had  heard  of  nothmg   but  the 

jectsishis.  extreme  distress  of  the  people;   this  increase 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  221 

of  their  burdens  made  liiin  so  uneasy  and  saddened  him  in 
so  visible  a  manner,  that  his  valets  noticed  it  in  his 
cabinets  for  several  days  together,  enough  to  be  anxious 
about  him,  and  Mar^chal  (who  related  to  me  the  whole  of 
this  curious  anecdote)  vv'as  induced  to  speak  to  him  of  his 
sadness,  which  was  so  great  for  several  days  that  he  feared 
for  his  health.  The  king  acknowledged  to  him  that  he  was 
iiiiinitely  distressed,  but  threw  it  vaguely  on  the  general 
situation  of  affairs.  Eight  or  ten  days  later,  the  same 
melancholy  having  continued,  the  king  suddenly  recovered 
his  usual  calmness.  CalUng  to  Mardchal,  and  being  alone 
with  him,  he  said  that  now  that  he  felt  reheved  he  was 
willing  to  tell  him  what  had  troubled  him  so  keenly,  and 
also  what  had  just  put  an  end  to  his  trouble. 

He  then  related  how  the  extreme  need  of  his  affairs  forced 
him  to  frightful  taxation ;  that  the  state  to  which  they  were 
reduced  made  it  a  necessity  that  he  should  increase  the  taxes 
very  considerably ;  that,  besides  his  compassion,  a  scruple  about 
taking  the  property  of  everybody  had  greatly  tormented  him ; 
but  that  finally  he  had  opened  his  mind  to  Pfere  Tellier,  wdio 
had  asked  him  for  a  few  days  in  which  to  think  the  matter 
over.  The  confessor  had  now  returned  after  a  consultation 
with  the  ablest  doctors  of  the  Sorbonne,  wlio  had  decided 
clearly  that  the  property  of  his  subjects  belonged  to  him  of 
right,  and  that  wlion  he  took  it  he  only  took  wliat  was  really 
his.^  The  Idng  acknowledged  that  this  decision  had  greatly 
relieved  him,  removed  all  his  scruples,  and  restored  him  to 
tlic  calmness  and  the  tranquillity  he  had  lost.  Mar.'clial  was 
so  astonished,  so  aghast,  at  this  statement  tli:it  ho  could  not 

1  Louis  XIV,  Hiiiil  Iiiinsclf  to  his  rod  (fEtivroR  ilc  Louis  XIV,,  vol.  I., 
p.  57) :  "  You  iniiHt  he  convinced  llial  kinirs  iirivo  niiturnily  tlic  full  iiml  frco 
diHpoHitioM  of  nil  yiropcrfy  posHCMHcd  pillicr  by  llic  Clinrch  or  tiio  liiity  to 
nsc  III  III!  (iincH  with  wise  (lis  Tclioi),  tluil  \n  to  Buy,  for  tlio  p;cncrul  nooil  of 
tlio  StatL'."     (Note  by  the  French  iililor,) 


222  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  viii. 

utter  a  word.  Fortunately  the  king  left  him  as  soon  as  he 
had  made  it,  and  Mar^chal  remained  some  time  alone  rooted 
in  the  same  place  and  not  knowing  precisely  where  he  was. 
This  anecdote,  which  he  related  to  me  a  few  days  later,  and 
about  which  he  was  still  in  his  first  horror,  needs  no  com- 
ment. It  shows,  without  need  of  saying,  what  a  king  is 
when  deUvered  over  to  such  a  confessor  and  consults  with 
him  alone ;  and  also  what  is  likely  to  become  of  a  State  in 
such  hands. 

The  establishment  of  the  poll-tax  had  been  proposed  and 
passed  without  examination  at  the  council  of  finance ;  a  singu- 
larity added  to  the  enormity  of  that  species  of  census.  The 
same  enormity  was  now  undertaken  by  Desmarets  for  the 
tithe-tax  at  the  same  ceremony,  or  rather  the  same  farce. 
The  king,  freed  by  P^re  TelHer  and  the  Sorbonne,  never 
doubted  that  all  the  property  of  his  subjects  was  his,  and 
that  what  he  did  not  take  but  left  to  its  owners  was  pure 
favour.  Consequently,  he  made  no  difficulty  in  taking  it 
with  both  hands  and  of  all  kinds ;  he  now  came  to  like  the 
tithe  in  addition  to  all  the  other  taxes,  levies,  and  extra 
duties,  and  Desmarets  had  only  to  put  it  in  force.  There- 
fore, on  Tuesday  morning,  September  30,  Desmarets  entered 
the  council  of  finance  with  the  decree  of  the  tithe  in  his 
bag. 

For  some  days  past  it  was  known  that  a  bombshell  was  in 
the  air,  and  everj'body  shuddered  with  the  remains  of  a  hope 
that  is  founded  only  on  desire,  and  all  the  Court,  as  well  as 
all  Paris,  waited  in  gloomy  silence  for  what  would  happen. 
People  whispered  it  in  each  other's  ear;  for  although  the 
project  about  to  be  brought  forth  was  already  intentionally 
bruited  about,  no  one  dared  speak  of  it  aloud.  The  members 
of  the  council  of  finance  who  entered  the  cabinet  on  that  day 
knew  as  little  definitely  as  the  public;  nor  did  they  even 


1710]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUO   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  223 

know  whether  or  not  the  matter  would  come  under  the 
control  of  the  bureau  of  the  council. 

Every  one  being  seated  and  Desmarets  having  drawn  a 
huge  document  from  his  bag,  the  king  took  speech  and 
The  council  of  Said  that  the  impossibility  of  obtaining  a 
n.nance.  pcace  and  the  extreme  difficulty  of  maintain- 

ing the  war  had  caused  Desmarets  to  seek  for  some  extraor- 
dinary means  of  raising  money  in  ways  that  he  t  lought 
advisable;  that  he  had  rendered  to  him  an  account  of  the 
means  proposed,  and  although  he,  the  king,  was  grieved  to  be 
reduced  to  such  succour,  he  agreed  to  the  plan,  and  doubted 
not  that  they  would  all  agree  when  Desmarets  had  explained 
it  to  them. 

After  this  decisive  preface,  which  was  contrary  to  the 
usual  custom  of  the  king,  Desmarets  made  a  pathetic  speech, 
about  the  obstinacy  of  the  enemy  and  the  exhaustion  of  the 
treasury,  which  was  short  and  very  authoritative,  and  he 
concluded  by  saying  that  between  leaving  the  country  a 
prey  to  the  enemy's  arms  or  taking  the  only  expedient  that 
remained  (he  knowing  no  other),  he  believed  the  latter  would 
be  less  hard  than  to  allow  the  enemy  to  enter  and  overrun 
the  provinces  of  France;  and  that  the  expedient  thus  pro- 
posed was  the  levying  of  the  tithe  [dixihne  denier]  on  all 
persons  without  exception.  To  which  he  added  that  besides 
the  impossibility  above-mentioned,  every  one  would  find  it  to 
hjs  advantage,  because  this  levy,  which  would  be  moderate 
on  all  in  view  of  what  they  would  obtain  from  the  king 
in  y)aymcnt  of  salaries  and  other  bonofits  (but  besides  this 
crying  iiiiijuity  to  those  persons,  liow  mnuy  otliers  there  were 
v/ho  riev(ir  had  anything  from  the  king  or  by  the  king!), 
which  fiaynients  would  in  consequence  bo  regularly  made; 
all  of  which  would  icsnll  in  Uk?  recovery  of  nieans  to  special 
persons  and  conse([uenLly  a,  circulation  for  the  general  jjublic 


224         MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  viii. 

which  would  restore  the  movement  of  money  and  a  certain 
abundance  of  it.  He  said  that  he  had  tried  to  prevent  dis- 
comforts both  for  the  king  and  for  his  subjects,  and  that 
these  gentlemen  could  better  judge  of  the  matter  from  the 
reading  of  the  decree,  which  he  would  now  proceed  to  do. 
Thereupon,  without  waiting  for  any  remarks,  he  read  the 
decree  from  end  to  end  without  interruption,  after  which  he 
was  sUent. 

No  one  saying  a  word,  the  king  asked  the  opinion  of 
d'Aguesseau,  who,  being  the  last  of  the  council,  was  the  one 
to  speak  first.  That  worthy  magistrate  replied  that  the 
matter  seemed  to  him  of  such  gi-eat  importance  that  he  could 
not  give  his  opinion  on  the  spot ;  he  should  wish  time  to 
form  it  by  examining  the  decree  in  his  own  house  slowly, 
both  as  to  the  thing  itself  and  as  to  the  form  of  it ;  he  there- 
fore requested  the  king  to  excuse  him  from  giving  an  opinion. 
The  kincr  remarked  that  d'Aguesseau  was  rigrht;  that  the 
examination  he  wanted  was  useless,  inasmuch  as  it  coulJ  not 
be  more  thorough  than  that  already  given  to  it  by  Desmarets, 
whose  opinion  was  to  issue  the  decree  such  as  they  had  now 
heard  it ;  this  was  his  own  opinion  also  on  the  account 
rendered  to  him  by  Desmarets,  and  therefore  it  would  be  loss 
of  time  to  discuss  the  matter  further. 

Every  one  was  silent,  except  the  Due  de  Beauvillers,  who, 
seduced  by  the  nephew  of  his  father-in-law,  Colbert,  whom 
he  thought  an  oracle  in  finance,  and  moved  by  a  sense 
that  the  affairs  of  the  country  were  now  reduced  to  the 
impossible,  said,  in  a  few  words,  that  grievous  as  he  conceived 
this  succour  to  be,  he  coul:l  not  but  prefer  it  to  seeing  the 
enemy  ravage  France,  and  he  believed  that  those  who  would 
suffer  most  from  it  woull  feel  the  same. 

Thus  was  forced  through  this  infamous  decree,  which 
was  instantly  signed,  sealeil,  recordei,  and  published  amid 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  225 

choking  sobs,  and  put  in  practice  amid  gentle  but  most 
pitiful  complaints.  Neither  the  levying  nor  the  product 
amounted  to  anything  like  what  that  conclave  of  anthro- 
pophagi expected,  and  the  king  never  paid  one  farthing  the 
more  to  any  one  than  he  did  previously.  Thus  v^rent  up  in 
smoke  this  tine  relief,  this  "certain  abundance,"  this  cir- 
culation and  movement  of  money,  the  sole  emollient  of 
Desmarets'  beautiful  address.  I  knew  on  the  morrow  all 
the  details  that  I  have  now  reported,  from  the  chancellor. 
Some  days  after  the  promulgation  of  the  decree  it  was 
spread  about  that  the  chancellor  had  vigorously  opposed  it 
at  the  council ;  this  won  him  great  honour ;  but  what  did  him 
far  truer  honour  was  that  he  loudly  rejected  the  report  as 
false.  He  told  every  one  who  mentioned  the  subject  to  him 
that  he  had  not  said  one  word,  and  was  glad  of  it ;  for  no 
matter  what  he  might  have  said,  nothing  could  change  a 
resolution  absolutely  taken,  and  which  was  only  mentioned 
to  the  council  as  a  matter  of  form,  a  ceremony  that  even 
surprised  him.  But  he  did  not  conceal  that  he  blamed 
this  dreadful  invention  with  all  the  bitterness  that  a  remedy 
turned  to  poison  deserved. 

Mardchal  Vauban  died  of  grief  at  the  non-success  of  his 
zeal  and  his  book,  as  I  have  related  in  its  place.  Poor 
Boisguilbert,  who  survived  in  the  exile  that  his  had  cost 
him,  now  felt  the  deepest  affliction  that  he,  having  thought 
only  of  the  good  of  the  State  and  the  general  comfort  and 
welfare  of  all  its  members,  should  have  been  the  innocent 
giver  of  the  idea  of  this  execrable  tax  —  he,  who  had  never 
imagined  or  proposed  the  tithe  except  in  hatred  of  and  for 
the  total  destruction  of  the  taillc  and  the  other  monopolies, 
having  constantly  insisted  that  this  tithe,  if  imposed  with 
other  taxes,  would  produce  next  to  nothing,  owing  to  lack  of 
circulation  and  outlay  and  its  consoi^uont  impotonce ;  tho 
VOL.  u.  — 15 


226  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,    [chap.  viii. 

event  showed  speedily  that  he  was  not  mistaken.  Thus 
every  man,  witliout  exception,  found  himself  at  the  mercy 
of  extortioners ;  reduced  to  appraise  and  discuss  with  them 
his  patrimony  ;  to  receive  their  certification  and  protection 
under  horrible  penalties ;  to  expose  in  public  the  secrets 
of  his  family ;  to  produce,  himself,  in  open  day  domestic 
turpitudes  hitherto  concealed  within  the  folds  of  wise  and 
multiplied  precautions.  Many  owners  of  property  vainly 
endeavoured  to  secure  one-tenth  of  their  property.  The 
whole  of  Languedoc  (though  imder  the  yoke  of  the  Baville 
committee)  offered  in  a  body  to  abandon  all  their  property 
without  reserve  to  the  king  on  condition  of  a  clear  tenth 
being  secured  to  them  ;  and  they  asked  it  as  a  favour.  The 
proposal  was  not  only  not  listened  to,  but  considered  an  insult 
and  roughly  jeered.  It  was  but  too  manifest  that  the  greater 
number  paid  a  fifth,  a  quarter,  a  third  of  all  their  property 
for  this  tithe  alone,  and  consequently  they  were  reduced  to 
the  last  extremities.  The  financiers  alone  escaped  by  the 
secrecy  of  their  books  and  through  tlie  protection  of  their 
fellows,  who  had  now  become  masters  of  all  the  property  of 
Frenchmen  of  all  classes.  The  protectors  of  the  tithe  saw 
clearly  all  these  hon'ors  and  yet  were  incapable  of  being 
touched  by  them. 

Some  days  after  the  publication  of  the  decree,  Monsei- 
gneur,  by  an  extraordinary  chance,  had  gone  to  dine  at  the 
Mdnagerie  with  the  princes  his  sons,  their  wives,  and  a  small 
number  of  ladies.  There  the  Due  de  Bourgogne,  less  ham- 
pered than  usual,  began  to  talk  about  the  taxes  and  those  who 
imposed  them,  saying  that  he  must  speak,  for  he  was  full  of 
them  to  his  very  throat.  He  declaimed  against  the  tithe  and 
the  multitude  of  other  taxes,  expressing  himself  with  more 
than  harshness  about  the  financiers,  the  farmers  of  the  pubUc 
revenues,  and  even  the  treasury  officers,  and  with  a  just  and 


1710]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  227 

holy  anger  recalling  memories  of  Saint-Louis,  of  Louis  XIL, 
Father  of  the  people,  and  of  Louis  the  Just.  Mouseigueur, 
moved  by  the  passionate  ardour  of  his  son,  so  little  usual 
with  him,  entered  into  the  matter  somewhat  and  showed 
anger  at  the  exactions,  as  injurious,  he  said,  as  they  were  bar- 
barous ;  and  at  so  many  men  rising  out  of  nothing  to  enrich 
themselves-  thus  monstrously  with  blood.  The  two,  the 
father  and  son,  caused  infinite  surprise  to  the  few  witnesses 
who  heard  them,  and  who  were  comforted  a  little,  hoping  to 
find  in  this  direction  a  resource. 

But  the  decree  was  destined  to  bear  fruit ;  the  true  succes- 
sor of  Louis  XIV.  was  the  son  of  a  rat  de  cave  [tax-gatherer], 
who  added,  during  his  long  and  disastrous  government,  to  all 
that  had  been  previously  invented  in  this  line ;  who  made 
the  extortioners  and  their  vast  armies  a  terror;  held  them 
up  to  honour,  if  that  were  possible,  by  the  veneration  he 
showed  them,  the  power  and  the  boundless  influence  he  gave 
them,  the  odious  respect  in  which  he  forced  the  great  of  the 
earth  to  hold  them,  through  the  favour  and  distinctions  of 
Court,  Church,  and  public  service  which  they  shared  with 
the  seigneurs,  being  even  preferred  to  them ;  a  condition 
to  which  not  one  of  them  had  ever  until  then  dared  to 
raise  his  eyes.^ 

The  tithe  established  allowed  of  the  whole  infantry  being 

increased  by  five  men  to  each  company.     A  tax  was  laid  on 

usurers,  who  had  made  so  much  by  traHicking 

Recoinage  and  '  •'  o 

profit  on  the  with  thc  kiug's  paper,  that  is  to  say,  by  profit- 
currency.  .         „  ,  1        I«     1  11. 

ing  from  the  needs  of  those  to  whom  the  kmg 

gave   it   in    y)ayment.     These  people  were  called    ntjioiciirs 

(jobbers)  and  their  system,  following  always  the  need  of  the 

holders  of  the  notes,  was  to  pay,  for  example,  three  or  four 

hundred  francs  (and  often   half  of  thnt   in    pnulucc)  for  a 

'  Cardinal  in(tiiry,  prime  iniiiiHli  r  iiiiilcr  tlu»  Uugvucy.  —  Tu. 


228  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  viii. 

note  of  a  thousand  francs ;  this  system,  I  say,  was  crlled 
ajio  (a  job).  It  was  said  that  thirty  millions  were  obtained 
from  the  tax  on  these  men.  Many  persons  gained  enor- 
mously, but  I  don't  know  that  the  king  gained  anything. 
Soon  after  this  the  currency  was  recoined,  which  gave  a  great 
profit  to  the  king  and  did  great  wrong  to  private  persons  and 
to  commerce.  In  all  ages  it  has  always  been  regarded  as  a 
great  evil,  and  even  something  worse,  to  meddle  with  wheat 
and  currency.  Desmarets  accustomed  us  to  the  manipula- 
tion of  the  currency,  M.  le  Due  and  Cardinal  Fleury  in 
coming  years  to  that  of  wheat  and  factitious  famine. 

At  the  beginning  of  December  the  king  announced  that 
he  wished  there  should  be  comedies  and  appartements  at 
Balls,  fetes,  and  Versailles,  even  when  Monseigneur  was  at 
Court  ^uhe  Mcudou  ;  which  was  unusual.     Apparently  he 

winter.  thouglit  \\Q  ouglit  to  kccp  the  Court  in  amuse- 

ments to  hide  his  straits  from  foreign  countries  without,  and 
from  his  own  within,  as  best  he  could.  The  same  reason 
led  to  the  carnival  beginning  early,  and  there  were  many 
balls  at  Court  of  all  sorts,  and  the  wives  of  the  ministers 
gave  some  that  were  magnificent,  even  species  of  fetes,  to 
Mme.  la  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  and  all  the  Court.  But 
Paris  continued  gloomy,  and  the  provinces  desolate. 

During  the  last  days  of  the  year  there  suddenly  appeared 

one  of  those  swindling  adventurers  who  pretend  to  possess 

the  grand  secret  of  making  gold.     Boudin,  chief 

Boudin,  his  ^  .  ,  . 

position  and  physician  to  Monseigneur,  had  this  man  work 
character.  ^^.^j^  j^.^^  Under  Ms  own  eye  and  key.     We 

shall  see  Boudin  again  before  long  as  a  bold  and  dangerous 
personage  for  a  man  of  his  kind.  It  is  well,  therefore,  to  say 
a  word  of  him  here,  as  it  comes  naturally  to  hand.  He  was 
houdm  in  face  [pudding-faced]  as  well  as  in  name,  the  son 
of  an  apothecary   of   the   king,  of  whom   nobody   thought 


1710]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  229 

much.  He  studied ,  medicine,  was  laborious,  inquiring,  and 
learned.  Had  he  continued  to  apply  himself  to  serious  things, 
he  would  have  had  both  a  good  and  a  fine  mind.  He  was 
extremely  well  furnished  in  literature  and  history,  and  had 
moreover  a  natural  charm  that  was  full  of  vivacity  and 
repartee,  and  so  naively  jocose  that  people  were  continually 
diverted  by  him,  without  liking  to  be  so.  He  was  the  dean 
of  the  Faculty  of  Paris,  physician  to  the  king,  and  finally 
chief  physician  to  IMonseigneur,  with  whom  he  stood  well. 
He  subjugated  Fagon,  that  tyrant  of  medicine  and  enemy  of 
all  doctors,  to  the  point  of  doing  everything  that  he  wanted  ; 
and  he  went  in  to  him  at  all  hours,  to  him,  Fagon,  who  lived 
behind  forty  bolts.  A  man  who  was  such  good  company 
soon  succeeded  at  a  Court  where  no  one  could  be  jealous  of 
him.  He  was  at  all  the  familiar  suppers  of  M.  le  Due  and 
the  Prince  de  Couti.  It  was  who  should  have  him,  among 
men  and  women  of  the  highest  degree  and  the  best  company, 
and  not  all  who  wanted  him  had  him ;  the  old  wanted  him 
for  their  dinners,  the  young  for  their  parties ;  libertine  and 
debauched  to  excess,  a  gourmand  at  table,  and  all  this  with  a 
sincerity  and  wit  which  fascinated.  In  this  way  Boudin  was 
soon  spoiled.  He  was  in  other  respects  a  bold  and  audacious 
companion,  who  denied  himself  little,  and  spared  none  if 
he  feared  no  return  or  when  he  was  pushed,  becoming  very 
familiar  if  permitted,  and  from  that  very  soon  impertinent. 
Initiiitod  in  this  way  into  the  clioicest  society,  he  took  to 
intrigue,  and  he  knew  and  shared  in  many  important  and 
secret  things  at  Court. 

Though  Boudin  liked  liia  profession,  lio  rusted  in  it  bo- 
cau?-c  he  would  not  t;dvc  the  trouble  to  sec  patients;  but  hi'^ 
curiosity  iibout  nil  sorts  nf  iviin'(li(!H  and  sccnils  never  faili'd 
him.  A])()ut  such  Iw.  had  th(>.  strongest  faith  in  the  world, 
and    he    fell    ii|inii    (ho    l-'ucully,  who    never    listim    to    any 


230  MEMOIKS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,    [chap.  rxn. 

remedies  but  their  own  and  will  let  a  man  die  in  their 
rules.  He  loved  chemistry  and  was  learned  in  it,  and  also 
a  good  experimenter,  but  he  went  further  and  dabbled  in 
hidden  things.  He  took  it  into  his  head  that  it  was  not 
impossible  to  find  the  philosopher's  stone,  and  with  all  his 
knowledge  and  all  his  mind  he  was  constantly  duped.  It 
cost  him  much  money,  and  though  he  loved  gain,  nothing 
was  too  costly  for  this  fancy;  he  would  leave  parties  and 
the  best  company  for  his  alembics  and  the  rascals  who 
swindled  him.  Trapped  a  thousand  times,  he  was  caught 
asain  a  thousand  times  more.  He  laughed  at  himself  in  the 
midst  of  his  terrors,  for  he  feared  everything  and  would  tell 
the  most  comical  stories  about  it.  This  new  maker  of  gold 
amused  and  deceived  him  like  all  the  rest,  and  cost  him  a 
great  deal  of  money,  which  he  regretted  heartily,  for  he  lost 
no  chance  to  amass  the  most  that  his  general  favour  could 
furnish  him.  Seigneurs  and  ministers  reckoned  with  him 
and  treated  him  cautiously  as  a  very  dangerous  man ;  and 
he  too,  provided  he  was  not  pushed,  knew  those  with  whom 
he  had  to  deal,  and  treated  them  as  cautiously  himself.  He 
belonged  cliiefly  to  the  Meudon  cabal,  and  somewhat  to  that 
of  the  seigneurs. 

On  the  loth  of  March  of  this  year  I  lost  a  friend  whom  I 
shall  regret  all  my  life,  one  of  those  friends  who  are  never 
j_,j  found   again.      This    was    the    Mardchal    de 

Death  and  short  Choiscul,  seuior  of  the  marshals  of  France 
Marechaide  (there  Were  then  seventeen),  chevalier  of  the 

choiseui.  Order,  and  governor  of  Valenciennes.     With- 

out property  and  without  relatives,  although  of  the  highest 
birth,  he  owed  nothing  except  to  his  virtue  and  his  merit : 
great  enough,  both  the  one  and  the  other,  to  support  him, 
though  he  had  not  much  mind,  against  the  persecutions  of 
Louvois  and  his  son,  with  a  haughtiness  he  showed  to  no  others, 


//'    /         ^  / 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  231 

and  a  courage  which  he  proved  in  all  the  other  events  of  his 
career.  Truth,  equity,  disinterestedness  in  the  midst  of  the 
greatest  need,  dignity,  honour,  equanimity  were  the  com- 
panions of  his  life  and  won  him  many  friends  and  public 
veneration.  Valued  everywhere,  though  without  influence; 
esteemed  by  the  king,  though  without  distinctions  and  with- 
out favours ;  welcomed  wherever  he  went,  though  not  amus- 
ing, he  had  no  enemies  or  envious  friends  unless  they  were 
those  of  virtue  itself,  or  ministers  who  hated  and  feared 
capacity,  courage,  and  high  birth.  We  have  seen  already 
how  truly  he  was  a  captain,  and  for  this  he  had  the  affection 
and  esteem  of  the  armies.  Poor  as  he  was,  he  asked  nothinsr. 
He  was  jealous  of  no  man  and  spoke  no  evil  of  any ;  and  he 
managed  to  make  both  ends  meet  without  debts,  at  the  end 
of  the  year  ;  keeping  a  modest  and  simple  establishment  and 
table,  which  satisfied  honest  people  and  those  of  the  highest 
position,  who  felt  honoured  in  being  invited  to  it.  He  was 
seventy-seven  years  old  and  had  never  prostituted  himself 
either  at  Court,  where  he  appeared  at  rare  moments  from 
duty,  or  in  the  world,  where  he  showed  himself  as  rarely  ; 
but  he  had  good  company  in  his  own  house ;  and  it  may  be 
said  that  in  the  midst  of  a  con-upt  society  virtue  triumphed 
in  him  over  all  the  favours  and  pleasures  that  society  seeks. 
He  died  with  great  firmness,  his  head  clear  to  the  last,  and 
bis  body  sound,  having  scarcely  been  ill  at  all ;  he  received 
the  sacraments  with  great  piety.  He  left  no  children  by  the 
sister  of  the  Marquis  de  Renti,  whom  he  had  lost,  but  from 
whom  he  had  been  separated  for  a  great  number  of  years. 

About  tlie  same  time  died  Bcileau-Desprdau.x,  so  well 
known  for  bin  intellect,  his  writings,  and  above  nil  for  his 
Death  of  noiieau-  f-'^t'Jrcs.  It  mny  be  said  that  in  this  latter  way 
DcBprcaux.  j^^,  exccllod,  allliongh  he  was  one  of  the  boat 

ini'ii    ill    the,    W(til(|.      lie    had   biH'ii    churgi'il    with    (he   tliity 


232  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DIJC  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  viii. 

of  ^vriting  a  history  of  the  king ;  but  it  was  found  he 
had  scarcely  worked  upon  it. 

This  same  month  of  March  saw  the  dawning  of  the  first 
beginnings  of  the  affair  which  produced  the  constitution 
Commencement     Uuigenitus,  SO  fatal  to  the  Chuich  and  State, 

of  the  affair  that  ,  ri^T-i  tj  j  t- 

produced  the  bull  SO  shameful  to  Romc,  so  disastrous  to  religion, 
unigenitus.  gQ  profitable  to  the  Jesuits,  the  Sulpicians,  the 

ultramontanes,  to  ignorant  persons  and  persons  of  no  account, 
and  above  all  to  all  kinds  of  rascals  and  villains  ;  the  results 
of  which,  following  as  much  as  possible  on  the  model  of 
those  of  the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes,  have  put  dis- 
order, ignorance,  deception,  confusion  everywhere,  with  a 
violence  that  still  lasts,  under  the  oppression  of  which  the 
whole  kingdom  groans  and  trembles  and  at  the  present 
moment,  after  more  than  thirty  years  of  unbridled  persecu- 
tion, still  feels  its  weight  extending  everywhere,  on  all  pro- 
fessions and  in  all  ways,  and  daily  growing  heavier.  I  shall 
be  very  careful  not  to  undertake  a  theological  history,  nor  one 
that  is  limited  to  mere  acts  and  proceedings ;  the  latter  alone 
would  require  many  volumes.  It  is  to  be  desired  that  fewer 
had  been  given  to  the  public  on  the  doctrine,  in  which  repeti- 
tions are  multiplied,  and  more  on  the  history  of  the  birth, 
course,  and  progress  of  this  terrible  affair,  of  its  results,  of  its 
ramifications,  of  the  fortunes,  ev^en  secular,  which  were  born 
of  it,  and  ruined  by  it,  of  the  effects  produced,  so  widespread 
and  so  stupendous,  by  the  opening  of  this  Pandora's  box; 
effects  so  far  beyond  the  hopes  of  the  one  side  and  the  con- 
ceptions of  the  other ;  which  silenced  laws,  tribunals,  systems, 
to  make  way  for  a  military  inquisition  which  inundated 
France  with  lettres  de  cachet  and  annihilated  justice.  I  shall 
confine  myself  to  the  brief  history  of  what  passed  before  my 
eyes,  and  sometimes  through  my  hands,  in  order  to  treat 
this  matter  as  I  have  treated  all  others,  leaving  what  I  have 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  233 

not  seen  myself  nor  heard  from  the  actors  themselves  to 
better,  more  informed,  and  less  lazy  pens  than  mine. 

To  understand  the  httle  that  from  time  to  time  will  be 
reported  of  an  afiair  which  so  principally  occupied  all  the  re- 
mainder of  the  reign  of  Louis  XIV.,  the  minority  of  Louis  XV., 
and  his  subsequent  reign ;  which  was  concealed  under  M.  le 
Due,  and  openly  brought  forth,  after  his  fall,  under  Cardinal 
rieury,  we  must  remember  many  things  scattered  through 
these  Memoirs  which  would  be  too  long  and  too  tiresome  to 
here  repeat ;  first,  the  storm  about  "  quietism,"  the  overthrow 
of  M.  de  Cambrai,  the  triumvirate  against  him ;  the  secret 
conduct  of  the  Jesuits,  of  whom  the  main  body  with  their 
public  ministry  declared  against  him,  but  without  injuring 
him,  while  the  dark  and  mysterious  sanhedrim  served  him 
with  all  its  strength,  and  the  union  that  resulted ;  we  must 
also  remember  what  was  said  of  Saint-Sulpice,  and  especially 
of  P^re  Tellier;  of  the  condition  of  the  episcopate  carefully 
filled  with  men  of  no  name,  no  ideas,  and  many  of  them 
without  conscience  and  without  honour,  some  being  publicly 
sold  to  the  most  undisguised  ambition,  and  to  perfect  servi- 
tude to  the  party  that  could  elevate  xhem ;  also  the  Chinese 
affair,  and  the  mortifying  position  of  the  Jesuits  in  that 
respect,  particularly  the  personal  part  taken  therein  by  Pore 
Tellier ;  the  hatred  of  the  Jesuits,  and  that  of  Pfere  Tellier, 
more  particularly  for  Cardinal  de  Noailles ;  the  lucky  use 
they  had  always  contrived  to  make  of  Jansenism  ;  finally, 
the  cliaracter  of  Cardinal  do  Noailles,  and  what  we  have 
now  seen  of  Hk;  king  and  Mnic.  do  Maintenon. 

These  things  being  recalled  to  mind  and  memory,  it  is  ea"=?y 
to  understand  the  extrenio  dosirc  of  P6ro  Tellier  to  save  the 
.JcHuilH  from  the  ()j)[)r()briuni  to  wliicli  their  condemnation  on 
the  China  afluir  conHigncd  ihcni  ;  iiiid  idso  (o  hurl  down  Car- 
dinal   (1(!    Noailles.      Ill    order   to   fstiiko   two   .such    powiM'ful 


234  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SADJT-SIMON.    [chap,  vin, 

blows  some  startling  affair  was  needed,  and  one  that  should 
touch  Eorae  on  a  sensitive  spot,  to  relieve  which  she  could 
hope  nothing  except  through  the  influence  of  P^re  Telher. 
He  was  therefore  incessantly  occupied  in  seeking  for  the 
means  to  bring  about  this  conjuncture. 

The  present  time  seemed  favourable  to  P^re  TeUier.  He 
had  the  Dues  de  Beauvilliers  and  Chevreuse,  through  M.  de 
Cambrai ;  he  had  also  Pontchartrain,  in  opposition  to  his 
father,  the  chancellor ;  and  for  baser  purposes  and  policy  he 
had  d'Argenson.  The  alliance  and  personal  intimacy  of 
Cardinal  de  Noailles  and  Mme.  de  Maintenon  no  longer 
troubled  him  ;  they  were  wearing  out  already  in  her  fickle 
mind.  We  must  not  forget,  moreover,  that  with  all  the  aver- 
sion and  fear  of  the  Saint-Sulpicians  for  the  Jesuits,  and 
the  hatred  and  jealousy  of  the  latter  for  the  former,  they 
were  wholly  agreed  in  holding  Jansenism  in  detestation,  and 
Eome  in  adoration :  the  Jesuits  from  powerful  self-interest, 
the  others  from  the  grossest  ignorance.  Therefore,  the  Jesuits 
in  this  affair  led  Saint-Sulpice  in  a  leash,  with  its  eyes  ban- 
daged, where  they  chose,  and  put  it  to  all  the  uses  they 
pleased. 

The  scheme  made  and  the  first  measures  taken,  it  was 
determined  to  raise  the  storm  without  appearing  in  it,  and 
to  make  it  faU  on  a  book  entitled  "  Moral  Eeflections  on  the 
New  Testament,"  by  Pere  Quesnel ;  an  edition  of  which  had 
received  the  approval  of  Cardinal  de  Noailles.  Who  Pfere 
Quesnel  was  is  universally  known,  and  it  would  be  super- 
fluous to  explain  him  here.  His  book  had  been  approved  by 
a  great  number  of  prelates  and  theologians.  Pere  de  La 
Chaise  kept  it  on  his  table,  because,  he  said,  when  he  had  a 
few  moments  to  spare  he  opened  it  and  always  found  some- 
thing to  edify  and  instruct  him. 

It  would  seem  that  a  book  so  universally  read  and  valued 


1711]  MEMOIUS  OF  THE   DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  235 

for  many  years,  the  excellence  and  soundness  of  which 
had  been  announced  by  so  great  a  number  of  celebrated 
approvers,  would  surely  have  been  sheltered  from  all  at- 
tack ;  but  the  example  of  the  success  obtained  against 
the  book  "  On  frequent  Communion,"  by  M.  Arnauld  (more 
illustrious  still,  through  the  name  of  its  author  and  the 
number,  dignity,  and  reputation  of  its  approvers,  and  the 
plaudits  with  which  it  was  received  and  read)  relieved  Pere 
Tellier  of  all  fears,  and  he  prepared  to  have  it  attacked  con- 
jointly with  Cardinal  de  Noailles,  who  had  approved  it.  For 
so  bold  a  stroke  he  used  two  men,  the  most  unknown, 
isolated,  and  lowest  in  rank  in  the  Church  that  he  could 
find,  in  order  that  they  should  be  less  easily  approached,  and 
more  under  his  complete  control :  Champtiour,  bishop  of  La 
Eochelle,  and  Valderies  de  Lescure,  bishop  of  Lucon. 

To  train  them  to  what  he  intended  them  to  do,  he  sent 
them  a  priest  named  Chalmet,  a  pupil  of  Saint-Sulpice,  per- 
fected at  Cambrai,  and  well  instructed  by  Fdnelon  ;  that 
prelate  always  hoping  for  his  own  return  and  the  flattering 
prospects  that  might  follow  it,  for  the  downfall  of  the  cardi- 
nal, the  last  of  his  three  conquerors,  and  for  the  support  of 
Pere  Tellier.  Clialmet  had  the  spirit  and  the  vehemence  of  a 
hard  and  iron-bound  pedant,  delivered  over  to  the  ultramon- 
tane maxims  of  Saint-Sulpice,  devoted  to  M.  de  Cambrai, 
abandoned  without  reserve  to  the  Jesuits,  and  particularly 
to  1\"  re  Tellier.  He  went  off  secretly,  —  first  to  La  Kocliclle, 
and  then  to  Lu(;oii,  keeping  well  hidden  in  tlie  beginning, 
■'ill  the  while  indoctrinating  the  two  prelates ;  but  so  harshly, 
and  in  so  high-handed  a  way  that  they  often  complained 
of  their  domineering  tutor. 

IIo  made  tlicni  draw  up  in  common  a  charge  to  their 
(;lergy,  ooiHlciiiniiig  tlic  "  Nouveau  Testament"  of  P6ro  Ques- 
uel,  in   the  cdiLiou   recommended  by  Cardinal  du  Nouillo^ 


236  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DLX  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  vin. 

with  a  censure  of  that  prelate  (the  authorsliip  of  which  was 
so  recognizable  that  no  one  could  mistake  it)  as  an  abettor 
of  heretics,  and  in  the  strongest  colours,  without  any  sort 
of  circumspection.  This  charge,  which  was  properly  speak- 
ing a  tocsin,  was  not  made  to  stay  buried  in  the  dioceses  of 
La  Kochelle  and  Lu(^on.  It  was  sent  to  Paris,  which  was 
flooded  with  it,  and  there  affixed  to  the  doors  of  all  the 
churches  and  the  archiepiscopal  palace ;  and  it  was  in  this 
way  that  Cardinal  de  Xoailles  and  all  Paris  obtained  their 
first  notion  of  it. 

Meantime  Pfere  Tellier  worked  upon  the  king,  who  liked 
and  respected  the  cardinal ;  but  the  latter,  not  doubting  that 
he  could  easily  obtain  justice  in  so  crj^ing  a  matter,  was  lax 
in  urging  his  cause.  A  readv-made  letter  was  sent  to  the 
two  bishops  for  their  signatures,  addressed  to  the  king,  who 
received  it  from  the  hands  of  Pere  Tellier,  through  whom  it 
was  ostensibly  forwarded  as  the  natural  minister  of  all  the 
bishops,  and  who  presented  it  to  the  king  as  a  function  of 
his  post  that  he  could  not  dechne.  The  letter  was  equally 
furious  and  adroit.  It  was  enough  to  cast  one's  eyes  upon 
it  (it  was  soon  made  public)  to  see  that  those  two  mitred 
animals  had  no  part  in  it,  beyond  their  signatures  ;  but  that 
it  came  from  the  able  and  cunning  hand  of  a  courtier  who 
was  also  a  most  malignantly  passionate  writer.  After  load- 
ing the  king  with  praises,  and  comparing  him  to  Constantine 
and  Theodosius  for  his  love  and  protection  of  the  Church, 
they,  that  is,  the  bishops,  prayed  him,  not  for  themselves, 
prostrate  before  his  feet,  but  for  the  Churcli,  for  the  epis- 
copate, for  the  freedom  of  sound  doctrine  and  justice  against 
those  who  attempted  to  oppress  it.  After  a  long  and  vehe- 
ment dissertation  against  Pere  Quesnel  and  his  "  Moral 
Eeflections  on  the  New  Testament,"  approved  by  Cardinal 
de  Xoailles,  they  represented  that  cardinal  as  an  enemy  of 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG   DE  SAINT-SIMON.  237 

the  Church,  the  pope,  and  the  king,  such  as,  under  Con- 
stantine  and  his  first  successors,  were  those  bishops  of  the 
imperial  city  who  made  all  men  tremble  under  their  authority 
and  tlie  orthodox  bishops  groan.  The  letter  was  long  and 
sustained  throughout  with  a  style  and  art  through  which 
the  trick  was  visible.  This  picture  of  Cardinal  de  Noailles, 
so  unlike  tlie  natural  man,  his  life,  his  morals,  his  conduct, 
the  fury  of  the  whole  document  laid  bare  the  mystery  of 
the  iniquity,  and  plainly  showed  that  a  letter  so  bold,  so 
shrewd,  and  so  strong  had  never  been  composed  at  La 
Eochells  nor  at  Luron. 

The  cardinal  had  an  audience  with  the  king,  but  beincr 
slow,  gentle,  not  born  for  Courts  nor  for  intrigues,  full  of 
confidence  moreover  in  his  conscience,  in  what  he  was 
within  himself,  and  also  with  the  king,  he  was  content 
with  having,  as  he  thought,  replaced  matters  at  the  end  of 
his  audience  where  they  were  before  the  letter  of  the  two 
bishops  was  received,  and  never  doubted  that  he  should 
obtain  eventually  a  suitable  satisfaction.  But  Pfere  Tellier 
in  his  turn  had  an  audience.  He  found  means  to  pique 
the  king  on  his  authority  and  on  the  protection  which  he 
owed  to  these  distant  and  neglected  prelates,  who  found 
themselves  about  to  be  persecuted  for  sound  doctrine.  The 
Bishop  of  Meaux  also  worked  in  the  same  manner  on  ]\Ime. 
de  Maintenon,  so  that  when  Cardinal  de  Noailles  had  liis 
next  audience  he  was  much  astonished  when  the  king  shut 
his  mouth  abruptly  on  the  affair,  declared  that  he  must  get 
out  of  it  as  best  he  could  without  mixing  him  in  it,  and 
that  that  was  all  he  could  do  in  his  favour. 

In  this  unfortunate  dilemma  the  cardinal  told  the  king 
that  inasmuch  as  ho  abandnncnl  him  to  c'lhimny  and  insult, 
without  \\\h  hiiving  dcao.rvcid,  or  oven  iniagiiuMl  lh(i  ])ossibil- 
ity  of,  what  had  hapjxmod  to  him,  ho  entreated  him  to  think 


238  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  viii. 

it  right  that  he  should  defend  himself ;  and  he  withdrew 
with  a  curt  permission  to  do  whatever  he  thought  proper. 
Two  days  later  he  published  a  short  but  strong  charge,  in 
which  he  pointed  to  various  errors  in  that  of  the  two 
bishops.  He  called  their  charge  a  libel  issued  under  cover 
of  their  name,  of  which  he  said  (rather  foolishly)  that  he 
thought  them  incapable;  inveighed  against  the  restlessness 
of  the  times  about  doctrine,  against  the  hcense  of  some 
bishops  in  meddling  with  the  missions  of  others,  and  for- 
bade, under  penalty,  the  reading  of  their  mandate,  which 
he  blasted  in  various  ways.  It  seemed  as  though  he  had 
the  right  to  defend  himself  in  this  way  by  the  abandon- 
ment, and  also  the  permission  of  the  king ;  and  considering 
the  nature  of  the  attack  upon  him  he  showed  some  for- 
bearance. Nevertheless,  it  was  made  a  crime,  and  he  was 
forbidden  to  appear  at  Court  unless  he  was  summoned 
there. 

The  affair  in  itself  had  roused  the  indignation  of  every 
one  who  was  not  devoted  to  the  Jesuits,  or  to  making  his 
own  fortune,  or  blinded  by  the  abuse  made  of  the  word 
"  Jansenism  "  to  decry  and  destroy  whomsoever  the  Jesuits 
would.  Even  neutral  minds  were  roused,  and  the  effect 
was  such  that  the  aggressors  were  frightened,  and  sought 
for  surer  and  more  efficacious  means  to  profit  by  their 
advantages  and  push  forward  in  their  noble  work.  I  shall 
say  no  more  for  the  present,  it  being  time  now  to  return  to 
other  matters. 

Easter  Sunday  of  this  year  fell  on  the  5th  of  April. 
The  following  Wednesday,  8th,  Monseigneur,  on  leaving 
My  embarrass-  ^^^  couucil,  weut  to  dine  at  Mcudou,  en 
ment  with  regard  parvulo,  taking  the   Duchesse  de  Bourgogne 

to  Monseigneur  "  o   o 

and  his  private       tHe-tt-Ute   in   his   Carriage.     It    has   been   ex- 
plained elsewhere  what  these  parvulos   were. 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  239 

The  courtiers  had  asked  for  Meudon,  where  the  stay  was 
to  be  eight  days  until  the  next  trip  to  Marly,  announced 
for  the  Wednesday  following.  The  Meudons  embarrassed 
me  terribly ;  for  to  me  the  place  was  infested  by  demons. 
Mme.  la  Duchesse  had  returned  to  reign  there;  d'Antin 
governed ;  Mile,  de  Lislebonne  and  her  sister  ruled.  They 
were  all  my  personal  enemies  and  they  governed  Monsei- 
gneur.  Consequently  I  tried  to  avoid  the  trips  to  Meudon 
and  all  its  company ;  never  presenting  myself  there  volun- 
tarily, and  dreading  still  more  one  of  these  visits. 

But  if  the  present  caused  me  anxiety,  how  many  other 
reflections  there  were  that  were  still  more  grievous;  the 
prospect  of  a  future,  advancing  nearer  and  nearer  every  day, 
which  would  put  Monseigneur  on  the  throne ;  and  amid  the 
wrangle  of  those  who  governed  him,  some  of  whom  would 
then  strive  to  do  so  to  the  exclusion  of  the  others,  enemies  of 
mine  who  longed  for  my  destruction  would  very  certainly  be 
on  the  throne  with  him,  where  they  had  only  to  will  it! 
Unable  to  do  better,  I  lived  on  courage.  I  told  myself  that 
human  beings  never  experience  all  the  good  nor  all  the  evil 
they  have,  or  appear  to  have,  the  best  reasons  to  foresee. 
I  hoped  tlius  against  hope  in  the  uncertainty  of  all  things 
attached  to  tliis  life,  and  I  calmly  saw  the  time  slip  by  as 
regards  the  future,  though  much  embarrassed  as  to  the 
present  about  Meudon. 

During  this  Easter  fortnight  I  went  away  to  dream  and 
refresh  myself  at  my  ease,  far  from  the  world  and  the  Court, 
whore,  with  the  excey)tion  of  Monseigneur,  all  other  things 
smilol  upon  me.  lint  that  sting,  witliout  a  remedy,  was 
cruelly  piercing,  when  it  pleased  God  to  deliver  me  from  it 
at  a  most  unexpected  moment.  T  h;i(l  widi  mo  nt  La  Fert(i 
only  M.  de  Saint-T/Miia,  an  old  cavalry  colonel,  much  ostcomod 
by  the  king,  by  M.  de,  Tnrcnnc.  and  l)y  all   nndcr  whom  ho 


240  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  viii. 

hal  served,  but  retired  for  the  last  thirty  years  to  the 
abbatial  house  of  La  Trappe,  where  he  led  a  most  saintly 
life,  and  a  gentleman  from  Normandy,  who  had  been  a 
captain  in  my  regiment  and  was  much  attached  to  me.  I 
had  taken  a  walk  with  them  on  the  morning  of  Saturday, 
11th,  the  day  preceding  the  first  Sunday  after  Easter,  and  on 
my  return  I  had  entered  my  cabinet  alone  for  a  short  time 
before  dinner,  when  a  courier,  sent  by  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon, 
brought  me  a  letter  from  her  informing  me  of  the  illness  of 
Monseigneur. 


IX. 


The  prince,  driving,  as  I  have  already  said,  to  Mendon  on 
the  day  after  the  fetes  of  Easter,  met  on  his  way,  at  Chaville, 
Illness  of  ^  priest  who  was  bearing  Our  Lord  to  a  dying 

Monseigneur.  person,  and  he  left  his  carriage,  together  with 
the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  to  adore  upon  his  knees.  He 
asked  what  the  illness  of  the  dying  man  was,  and  was  told 
that  it  was  small-pox.  It  was  much  about.  He  had  had  it 
very  lightly,  when  a  child,  and  greatly  feared  it.  He  was 
shocked,  and  that  night  told  Boudin,  his  physician,  that  he 
should  not  be  surprised  if  he  had  taken  it.  The  next  day 
passed  as  usual. 

On  Thursday,  the  9th,  he  rose,  intending  to  hunt  the  stag, 
but  a  weakness  seized  him  while  dressing,  and  Boudin  put 
him  to  bed  again.  The  whole  day  was  alarming  on  account 
of  his  pulse.  The  king,  slightly  informed  of  it  by  Fagon, 
thought  it  was  nothing,  and  drove  to  Marly  after  his  dinner, 
where  he  received  constant  news  from  Meudon.  The  Due 
and  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  dined  there,  and  would  not 
leave  Monseigneur  for  a  moment.  The  princess  added  to 
the  duties  of  a  daughter-in-law  all  the  kindness  that  was 
in  her,  giving  Monseigneur  everything  with  her  own  hand. 
The  heart  could  not  help  being  troubled  by  whnt  the  mind 
maile  her  fore'^ee  as  possible,  but  her  cares  and  devotion  were 
not  less  marked,  though  without  any  iiir  of  afTectatiou  or  of 
]il;iying  a  part.  Tin;  Due  de  I'ourgogud,  sinijile  and  saintly, 
and  full  of  his  duti(!H,  fullillcd  thcuu  beyond  measure;  and, 
although  there  was  already  groat  suspicion  of  the  suiall-pox, 
VOL.  II.  —  m 


242  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap,  ix 

which  he  had  never  had,  neither  he  nor  his  wife  would  leave 
Monseigneur  for  a  moment  until  they  were  obliged  to  return 
to  Versailles  for  the  king's  supper. 

After  hearing  their  accoimt,  the  king  sent  early  to  Meudon 
the  next  morning,  Friday,  10th,  so  that  he  heard  on  awaking 
of  the  great  danger  of  Monseigneur.  He  had  said  the  night 
before  that  he  should  go  the  next  morning  to  Meudon  and 
stay  there  during  ]\Ionseigneur's  illness,  of  whatever  nature 
it  might  be ;  and  he  did  so  after  mass.  On  leaving,  he  for- 
bade his  children  to  go  there.  He  also  forbade,  in  general, 
with  kindly  reflection,  all  who  had  not  had  the  small-pox,  and 
permitted  those  who  had  had  it  to  go  to  Meudon  and  pay 
their  court  to  him,  or  not  to  go,  accordmg  to  their  fears  or 
their  convenience. 

Du  Mont  sent  away  a  number  of  the  guests  who  were  on 
this  trip  to  Meudon,  in  order  to  lodge  the  king's  suite,  which 
the  latter  hmited  to  the  necessary  persons  and  to  his  min- 
isters (all  except  the  chancellor  who  did  not  sleep  there), 
in  order  that  he  might  work  with  them  as  usual.  Mrae.  la 
Duchesse  and  the  Princesse  de  Conti,  each  with  her  lady 
of  honour ;  Mile,  de  Lislebonne,  Mme.  d'Espinoy,  and  Mile,  de 
Melun,  as  particularly  attached  to  ^Monseigneur,  and  Mile,  de 
Bouillon,  daughter  of  the  chamberlain,  were  the  only  ladies 
who  stayed  there  at  night  and  supped  with  the  king,  who 
dined  alone,  as  at  Marly.  I  do  not  mention  Mile.  Choin,  who 
had  been  there  since  Wednesday,  nor  Mme.  de  Maintenon, 
who  came  out  after  dinner  with  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne 
to  see  the  king.  He  would  not  allow  the  latter  to  enter 
Monseigneur's  apartment,  and  sent  her  back  to  Versailles 
immediately.  This  was  the  state  of  things  when  Mme.  de 
Saint-Simon  sent  the  courier  to  me ;  the  doctors  were  hoping 
it  was  small-pox,  though  it  had  not  yet  declared  itself. 

I  shall  speak  of  myself  with  the  same  truth  I  have  used 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUC   DE  SAINT-SIMON.  243 

about  other  persons  and  things.  In  the  situation  in  which  I 
was  with  relation  to  Monseigneur  and  his  intimate  Court,  the 
impression  made  upon  nie  by  this  news  may  be  easily  con- 
ceived. I  saw,  by  what  was  told  me  of  Monseigneur's  state, 
that  the  matter  either  for  good  or  for  evil  would  be  quickly 
decided.  I  was  more  at  my  ease  at  La  Fertd  ;  I  therefore 
resolved  to  await  the  news  of  the  next  day,  sending  back  the 
courier  to  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  and  asking  her  to  send 
me  another  on  the  morrow.  I  spent  the  day  in  the  vague 
movement  of  a  flux  and  retlux  which  gained  and  then  lost 
ground,  holding  the  man  and  the  Christian  on  his  guard 
against  the  man  and  the  courtier ;  while  a  crowd  of  things 
and  objects  presented  themselves  to  my  mind  in  this  critical 
conjuncture,  making  me  foresee  an  unhoped-for  speedy  de- 
liverance, under  the  most  favourable  appearances  for  the 
future. 

The  courier,  whom  I  awaited  impatiently,  arrived  on  the 
morrow,  the  Sunday  after  Easter,  early  in  the  afternoon. 
I  learned  from  him  that  small-pox  had  declared  itself,  and 
all  was  going  on  as  well  as  could  be  wished ;  and  I  thought  it 
must  be  so  because  I  also  learned  that  Mme.  de  Maintenon, 
who  did  not  leave  her  room  at  Meudon,  had  gone  early  in 
the  morning  to  Versailles,  where  she  dined  with  ]\Ime.  de 
Caylus  and  met  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  not  returning 
very  early  to  Meudon. 

I  believed  Monseigneur  saved,  and  I  wished  to  stay  at  home 
at  La  Fcrtd  ;  nevertheless  I  took  advice,  as  I  have  done  all  my 
life  and  been  the  better  for  it.  I  gave  orders  with  rcgrtit  to 
start  the  next  morning,  Mondny,  A])ril  13,  and  did  so  early. 
On  reaching  Queue,  fourteen  leagues  from  La  Fertd  and  six 
froin  Paris,  a  lianker  named  La  Fontaine  cnmo  up  to  my 
chaise  as  1  was  changing  horses.  Ho  was  jusl,  I'n.ni  Taris 
and  VerHailles,  where  luj  had  scicn  tlie  servouta  of  Almo.  la 


244  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  ix. 

Duchesse ;  he  told  me  that  Monseigneur  was  doing  very  well, 
and  gave  me  details  which  showed  he  was  out  of  danger.  I 
reached  A'ersailles  full  of  this  opinion,  which  was  confirmed 
by  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  and  hy  all  whom  I  saw ;  so  that  no 
fears  remained,  except  from  the  treacherous  nature  of  the 
disease  in  a  man  of  fifty  and  very  stout. 

The  king  held  his  councils  at  Meudon  and  worked  with 
his  ministers  as  usual  He  saw  Monseigneur  morning  and 
evening  and,  several  times,  after  dinner,  sitting  always  for 
a  long  time  by  his  bedside.  The  Monday  that  I  arrived  at 
Versailles  he  had  dined  early  and  driven  to  Marly,  where 
the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  had  gone  to  meet  him.  As  he 
passed  the  gardens  of  Versailles  his  two  grandsons  were 
waiting  to  see  him,  but  he  would  not  let  them  approach  him 
and  only  called  out  good-day.  The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne 
had  had  the  small-pox,  though  no  marks  of  it  remained. 

The  king  was  never  happy  except  in  his  own  houses  ;  he 
disliked  being  elsewhere.  For  that  reason  his  visits  to  his 
son  at  Meudon  were  few  and  short,  and  only  out  of  com- 
plaisance. Mme.  de  Maintenon  was  still  more  uneasy. 
Though  her  chamber  was  everywhere  a  sanctuary,  into  which 
none  entered  but  women  in  the  strictest  privacy,  she  needed 
everywhere  some  other  retreat  which  was  wholly  inaccessible, 
except  to  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  and  then  only  for 
instants,  and  alone.  Thus  she  had  Saint-CjT  for  Versailles 
and  Marly,  and  at  ]\Iarly  a  retreat  within  the  house,  and  at 
Fontainebleau  a  house  in  the  town.  Finding  that  Monsei- 
gneur was  doing  so  well,  and  their  stay  at  Meudon  likely  to 
be  long,  the  king's  upholsterers  received  orders  to  furnish 
Chaville,  the  house  of  the  late  Chancellor  Le  Tellier,  which 
Monseigneur  had  bought  and  inclosed  in  the  park  of 
Meudon ;  it  was  at  Chaville  that  ]\Ime.  de  Maintenon  now 
intended  to  make  her  retre.it. 


1711]  MEMOIRS   OF   THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  245 

The  king  had  commanded  a  review  of  the  men-at-arms 
and  the  light-horse  for  Wednesday,  so  that  all  seemed  going 
on  favourably.  On  arriving  at  Versailles  I  had  written  to 
M.  de  Beauvilliers  at  Meudon,  to  beg  him  to  say  to  the  king 
that  I  had  returned  on  hearing  of  Monseigneur's  illness; 
and  should  have  gone  to  Meudun  if,  not  having  had  the 
small-pox,  I  were  not  forbidden  by  his  orders  to  do  so.  He 
sent  me  word  that  my  return  had  been  very  fortunate,  and 
reiterated  from  the  king  the  order  not  to  go  to  Meudon, 
either  myself  or  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon,  who  had  never  had 
the  small-pox  either. 

Meudon,  taken  in  itself,  was  full  of  contrasts.  The  Choin 
was  there  in  her  garret;  Mile,  de  Lislebonne  and  Mme. 
Contrasts  at  d'Espiuoy  ucver  left  Monseigneur's  room  and 
Meudon.  ^jjg  recluse  came  down  when  the  king  was  not 

there  and  the  Princesse  de  Conti  had  retired.  This  princess, 
feeling  that  she  should  cruelly  constrain  Monseigneur  unless 
she  set  him  at  liberty  in  this  respect,  did  so  with  a  very  good 
grace.  She  said  to  Monseigneur  that  for  a  long  time  she  had 
not  been  ignorant  of  who  and  what  there  was  at  Meudon  ; 
that  she  could  not  stay  away  in  the  uneasiness  that  she  felt, 
but  it  would  not  be  just  to  let  her  friendship  interfere  with 
his  comfort.  She  therefore  begged  him  to  treat  her  freely, 
and  send  her  away  whenever  it  suited  him  ;  and  she,  on  her 
side,  would  be  careful  not  to  enter  his  room  without  know- 
ing whether  he  could  see  her  conveniently.  This  compli- 
ment pleased  Monseigneur  exceedingly.  The  princess  was 
faitliful  to  this  course,  and  docile  to  the  warnings  of  Mme. 
la  Duchcsso  and  the  two  Lorrains  to  leave  the  room  when 
desirable,  witliout  fippeariiig  to  be  constrained  or  chngrinod. 
She  retunuMl  whctu  nhc,  couM,  without  the  slightest  ill- 
hnniour,  for  which  she  deserves  true  praise. 

It  was,  of  ('.()ur.s(!,  Mile.  (Mioin    who  was   in   (nu'stion,  and 


246  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMOX.    [chap.  ix. 

who,  with  Thre  TelUer,  figured  at  Meudon  in  a  very  strange 
way.  Both  were  incognito,  relegated  to  his  and  her  garret, 
served  with  their  meals  alone,  seen  only  by  the  necessary 
servants,  yet  known  to  be  there  by  every  one,  —  with  this 
difference,  that  the  lady  saw  Monseigneur  night  and  day 
without  setting  foot  elsewhere,  and  the  confessor  went  about 
to  the  king  and  all  other  places  except  to  Monseigneur's 
apartment  and  those  that  adjoined  it.  Mme.  d'Espmoy 
conveyed  and  returned  the  compliments  which  passed  be- 
tween Mile.  Choin  and  Madame  de  Maintenon.  The  king 
did  not  see  the  Choin,  but  he  thought  that  Mme.  de 
Maintenon  had  done  so.  He  spoke  of  it  later,  and  hearing 
that  she  had  not  seen  her  was  displeased.  Whereupon 
Mme.  de  Maintenon  charged  Mme.  d'Espinoy  to  make  her 
excuses  to  Mile.  Choin  and  to  say  that  she  hoped  they 
should  see  each  other,  —  an  odd  compliment  from  one  room 
to  another  under  the  same  roof.  They  never  saw  each 
other. 

Versailles  presented  another  scene :  the  Due  and  Duchesse 
de  Bourgogne  held  open  Court,  and  this  Court  resembled  the 
first  break  of  dawn.  All  the  courtiers  were  there  assembled, 
all  Paris  flowed  in ;  and,  as  discretion  and  caution  were  never 
French  qualities,  all  Meudon  came  too,  and  people  were  be- 
lieved on  their  word  that  they  had  not  entered  Monseigneur's 
apartments  that  day.  Lever  and  coucher,  dinner  and  supper 
with  the  ladies,  public  conversations  after  each  meal,  walks 
in  the  gardens  were  the  times  to  pay  court,  and  the  apart- 
ments could  not  hold  the  crowd.  Couriers  every  quarter  of 
an  hour,  who  recalled  attention  to  news  of  Monseigneur,  the 
course  of  the  malady  said  to  be  all  that  could  be  wished, 
extreme  facility  of  hope  and  confidence,  desire  and  eagerness 
of  all  to  please  the  new  Court,  majesty  and  cheerful  gravity 
of  the  young   prince  and  the  young  princess,  their   cordial 


1711]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  247 

greeting  to  all,  their  continual  attention  to  speak  to  every 
one,  amiability  among  the  crowd ;  reciprocal  satisfaction,  and 
the  Due  and  Duchesse  de  Berry  almost  nonentities.  In  this 
way  five  days  went  by  ;  each  individual  thinking  ceaselessly 
of  future  contingencies,  and  trying  in  advance  to  adjust  him- 
self to  any  event. 

Tuesday,  April  14,  the  day  after  my  return  to  Versailles, 
the  king,  who,  as  I  have  said,  was  bored  at  Meudon,  held,  as 
usual,  the  council  of  finances  in  the  morning  and,  against 
his  custom,  the  council  of  despatches  in  the  afternoon.  I 
went  to  see  the  chancellor  on  his  return  from  the  latter  coun- 
cil, and  I  heard  from  him  about  Monseigneur's  condition. 
He  assured  me  it  was  good,  and  told  me  that  Fagon  had 
said  to  him  these  very  words  :  "  All  things  are  going  as  we 
wish,  and  beyond  our  hopes."  The  chancellor  seemed  to 
feel  great  confidence,  and  I  put  faith  in  it,  the  more  readily 
because  he  stood  extremely  well  with  Monseigneur,  and  did 
not  banish  all  fear,  though  he  had  no  other  than  that  which 
is  natural  in  this  sort  of  malady. 

The  fishwomen  of  Paris,  Monseigneur's  faithful  friends, 
who  already,  on  the  occasion  of  a  great  indigestion  which 
was  taken  for  apoplexy,  had  signalized  themselves,  now 
gave  a  second  edition  of  their  zeal.  That  same  morning 
they  arrived  at  Meudon  in  several  hired  carriages.  Monsei- 
gneur wished  to  see  them.  They  flung  themselves  on  the 
foot  of  his  bed,  which  they  kissed  again  and  again,  and, 
delighted  with  tlic  good  news,  they  declared  in  their  joy  that 
tliey  should  go  and  make  all  Paris  rejoice  and  sing  the  Te 
iJcum.  Mon'^eigncur,  who  was  not  insensible  to  these  marks 
of  tlie  love  of  the  people,  told  tlicni  it  was  not  yet  time  to 
rejoice,  and  after  thanking  tlicin  ordcicMl  his  people  to  show 
thciii  his  house,  oiiLertaiii  them  uL  tlinni'.r,  and  send  them 
uway  with   money. 


248  MEMOIRS  OF   THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap,  ix 

Eeturning  to  my  own  apartment  from  the  chancellor's 
by  the  court.s,  I  saw  the  Duchesse  d'Orldans  walking  on  the 
Singular  conver-  teirace  of  the  new  wing  ;  she  called  to  me,  but, 
sation  between       ^g  ^-^Q  had  la  Montauban  with  her,  I  pretended 

the  Duchesse  -^ 

d' Orleans  and  me.  not  to  See  Or  hear,  and  I  reached  my  rooms 
with  my  mind  full  of  the  good  news  from  Meudon.  This 
lodging  of  mine  was  on  the  upper  gallery  of  the  new  wing, 
which  it  was  necessar}^  to  pass  through  to  reach  the  apart- 
ment of  the  Due  and  Duchesse  de  Berry,  who  were  that 
night  to  give  a  supper  to  the  Due  and  Duchesse  d'Orl^ans 
and  several  ladies,  among  them  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon,  who 
excused  herself  on  the  ground  of  a  slight  indisposition.  I 
had  been  only  a  short  time  in  my  cabinet,  alone  with  Coet- 
tenfao,  when  Mme.  la  Duchesse  d'Orldans  was  announced; 
she  having  come  to  talk  with  me  while  awaiting  the  hour 
for  supper.  I  went  to  receive  her  in  the  apartment  of  Mme. 
de  Saint-Simon,  who  was  out,  but  presently  returned  and 
made  a  third  in  the  conversation,  —  the  princess  and  I  being, 
as  they  say,  big  with  the  desire  to  see  and  converse  with 
each  other  in  this  crisis,  about  which  she  and  I  thought 
alike.  It  was  scarcely  an  hour  since  she  had  left  Meudon, 
where  she  had  seen  the  king.  It  was  now  eight  o'clock  in 
the  evening  of  that  same  Tuesday. 

She  told  me  the  same  words  that  Fagon  had  used,  which 
I  had  heard  already  from  the  chancellor.  She  dwelt  on  the 
confidence  that  reigned  at  Meudon,  praised  the  care  and 
capacity  of  the  doctors,  who  neglected  nothing,  not  even  the 
insignificant  remedies  which  they  most  despised ;  she  en- 
larged upon  their  success  ;  and  then  —  to  speak  frankly  and 
avow  the  shame  —  she  and  I,  we  lamented  together  to  see 
Monseigneur  escape,  at  his  age  and  with  his  fat,  from  so 
dangerous  a  disease.  She  reflected  sadly,  but  with  the  spice 
and  the  tones  of  the  j\iortemarts,  that  after  such  a  clearing 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  249 

out  of  the  system  there  could  be  no  longer  the  least  little 
likelihood  of  apoplexy,  and  that  of  indigestion  was  hopelessly 
ruined  by  Monseigneur's  late  fright  and  the  empire  he  had 
given  to  the  doctors  over  his  health ;  and  we  concluded 
plaintively  that  we  must  reckon  in  future  that  the  prince 
would  reign  long.  On  that,  endless  remarks  as  to  the  fatal 
accompaniments  of  his  reign,  as  to  the  vanity  of  the  best- 
founded  appearances  about  a  life  which  had  promised  so  little 
but  now  found  its  health  and  its  duration  in  the  very  bosom 
of  danger  and  of  death.  In  a  word,  we  gave  loose  to  our 
tongues ;  not  without  some  scruple,  which  interrupted  now 
and  then  this  curious  conversation,  though  she  in  her  drolly 
plaintive  way  brought  it  always  back  to  the  same  point 
Mme.  de  Saint-Simon,  all  goodness,  moderated  as  much 
as  she  could  these  odd  remarks ;  but  the  moderation  broke 
down  and  ended  in  a  singular  struggle  between  freedom 
of  sentiments,  humanly  speaking  very  natural  in  us,  and 
the  feeling  that  those  sentiments  were  not  according  to 
religion. 

Two  hours  went  by  in  this  way  between  us  three,  and 
they  s^J^rned  to  us  short  when  the  hour  for  supper  ended 
them.  The  Duchesse  d'Orl^ans  went  to  her  daughter,  and 
we  into  my  room,  where  some  good  company  had  assembled, 
witli  whom  we  supped. 

While  all  was  so  tranquil  at  Versailles,  and  even  at 
Meudon,  the  face  of  things  changed  in  Monseigneur's  room. 
The  scene  at  1'^^^'  l"^i"S  ^^'^'^  '^Gcn  him  scveml  times  in  the 

Meudon.  course  of  tiie  day  and   ho  liad  seemed  much 

toiuiliod  by  these  marks  of  his  father's  friendship  and  con- 
sideration. During  the  al'ternoon  visit,  before  the  council  of 
despatches,  the  king  was  so  struck  by  the  extraordinary 
Hwelliiig  of  i\u',  f;i'(!  and  bead  that  he;  shortened  his  stay, 
and  Hb(!(l  a   Few   Icais  on  Irdivini'   the  <'lijiinb(ir.     Those  about 


250  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,    [cil^p.  ix. 

him  reassured  liim  as  best  they  could,  and  after  the  council 
of  despatches,  he  walked  in  the  gardens. 

But  Monseigneur  by  this  time  had  failed  to  recognize  the 
Princesse  de  Conti,  and  Boudin  was  alarmed.  The  prince 
had  been  so  all  along.  The  courtiers  saw  him  one  after  an- 
other daily,  and  the  most  familiar  did  not  leave  his  room 
at  all.  He  constantly  questioned  those  who  had  had  the 
disease  as  to  whether  it  was  customary  to  feel  as  he  did. 
Whenever  what  they  said  to  reassure  him  made  an  impres- 
sion, he  founded  hopes  of  life  and  health  on  this  clearing 
out  of  his  system ;  and  on  one  of  these  occasions  he  ac- 
knowledged to  the  Princesse  de  Conti  that  he  had  long  felt 
very  ill  without  being  willing  to  show  it ;  and  that  his 
weakness  was  such  on  Holy  Thursday  that  he  had  been 
unable  during  the  service  to  hold  his  prayer-book  in  his 
hands. 

He  was  worse  towards  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  dur- 
ing the  council  of  despatches,  so  that  Boudin  proposed  to 
Fagon  to  send  for  advice,  representing  to  him  that  they,  as 
court  physicians,  seldom  saw  venomous  diseases,  and  urging 
him  strongly  to  send  at  once  for  Paris  doctors.  But  Fagon 
was  angry,  would  not  listen  to  reasons,  obstinately  refused 
to  call  in  any  one,  and  said  it  was  useless  to  involve  them- 
selves in  disputes  and  contradictions ;  he  declared  they  were 
doing  as  well  and  better  than  any  help  they  could  send  for, 
and  wanted  to  keep  Monseigneur's  condition  secret,  although 
he  was  getting  worse  hour  by  hour,  so  that  by  seven  o'clock 
even  the  valets  and  the  courtiers  began  to  perceive  it.  But 
aU  that  class  of  persons  trembled  under  Fagon.  He  was 
there,  and  no  one  dared  open  his  lips  to  warn  the  king 
or  Mme.  de  Maintenon.  Mme.  la  Duchesse  and  the  Trin- 
cesse  de  Conti,  equally  helpless,  tried  to  reassure  each  other. 
A  singular  thing   was   that   they  wished   the   king  to   sit 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG   DE  SAINT-SIMON.  251 

down  to  table  before  alarming  him  with  the  great  remedies, 
and  to  finish  his  supper  without  warning,  —  he,  on  the  faith 
of  Fagon  and  the  general  silence,  supposing  Monseigneur  to 
be  doing  well,  although  he  had  seen  him  so  swollen  in  the 
afternoon  and  was  himself  so  troubled  about  him. 

While  the  king  was  tranquilly  supping,  the  people  who 
were  in  Monseigneur's  chamber  began  to  lose  their  heads. 
Death  of  Fagon  and  the  others  heaped  remedies  on  rem- 

Monseigneur.  edies,  without  Waiting  for  the  effect  of  any. 
The  vicar  of  Meudon  who,  every  evening  before  retiring  to 
his  own  house,  went  to  hear  news  of  the  patient,  found  all 
the  doors  wide  open  and  the  valets  distracted.  He  entered 
the  chamber,  and  seeing  the  state  of  things,  too  tardily  ad- 
mitted, he  went  to  the  bed,  took  Monseigneur's  hand,  and 
spoke  to  him  of  God.  Then,  seeing  that  he  had  full  con- 
sciousness, though  almost  unable  to  speak,  he  drew  from 
him  what  he  could  by  way  of  confession  (of  which  not  a 
soul  had  thought),  and  suggested  to  him  acts  of  contrition. 
The  poor  prince  repeated  some  words  distinctly,  others  con- 
fusedly, struck  his  breast,  pressed  the  vicar's  hand,  seemed 
to  be  filled  with  the  best  sentiments,  and  received  with  a 
contrite  and  wistful  air  the  vicar's  absolution. 

The  kins  now  left  the  table  and  almost  fell  backward 
when  Fagon,  suddenly  presenting  himself,  cried  out,  in  a 
troubled  voice,  that  all  was  hopeless.  The  horror  that  seized 
every  one  at  this  sudden  change  from  perfect  security  to 
desperate  extremity  may  be  imagined.  The  king,  liardly 
himself,  instantly  started  for  Monseigneur's  apartment,  re- 
pressing very  curtly  the  indiscreet  eagerness  of  certain 
courtiers  to  retain  him,  saying  that  ho  wished  to  see  his  son 
once  more,  and  to  be  sure  there  was  no  furtlior  remedy 
possililc.  Ah  he.  w.-is  iilioiil.  to  cnlcr  ihc  room,  the  Princesse 
il(^  (!onl:i,  who  h;i(l  liud  lime,  to  rush  to  Mousoigncur's  room 


252  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAIXT-SBION.     [chap,  ix 

in  the  short  interval  after  leaving  the  table,  met  him  at  the 
door  to  prevent  his  entrance.  She  even  pushed  him  with 
her  hands,  saying  that  henceforth  he  must  think  only  of 
himself.  Then  the  king,  almost  swooning  from  so  sudden 
and  complete  a  reversal  of  all  hope,  let  himself  fall  upon 
a  sofa  that  was  close  to  the  door  of  the  cabinet  he  had 
entered,  which  communicated  with  Monseigneur's  chamber. 
He  asked  news  from  all  who  came  out,  which  few  of  them 
dared  to  give  him.  On  his  way  down  to  Monseigneur  (for 
he  lodged  on  the  floor  above)  he  had  sent  for  P^re  Tellier, 
who  had  just  gone  to  bed.  The  latter  was  soon  dressed 
and  came  to  the  chamber;  it  was  then  too  late,  so  the 
servants  said  afterwards ;  but  the  confessor,  to  comfort  the 
king,  assured  him  he  had  given  Monseigneur  a  well-grounded 
absolution.  Mme.  de  Maintenon  had  hastened  to  the  king, 
and  seated  beside  him  on  the  sofa  was  trying  to  weep.  She 
endeavoured  to  take  the  king  away,  and  the  carriages  were 
held  ready  in  the  courtyard  ;  but  he  could  not  resolve  to  go 
till  Monseigneur  had  expired. 

This  dying  agony,  without  consciousness,  lasted  nearly  an 
hour  after  the  king  had  reached  the  cabinet.  Mme.  la 
Duclie?se  and  the  Princesse  de  Conti  divided  their  cares 
between  the  dying  man  and  the  king,  returning  frequently 
to  the  latter,  while  the  Faculty  confounded,  the  valets  dis- 
tracted, the  courtiers  muttering,  pushed  one  against  the 
others  and  walked  about  incessantly  but  without  changing 
place.  At  last  the  fatal  moment  came.  Fagon  came  out 
and  made  it  known. 

The  king,  greatly  afflicted,  and  much  distressed  by  the 
absence  of  a  confession,  treated  his  chief  doctor  roughly ; 
then  he  went  away,  led  by  Mme.  de  Maintenon  and  the  two 
princesses.  The  apartment  was,  as  I  have  said,  on  a  level 
with  the  courtyard.     As  the  king  came  out  to  get  into  the 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  253 

carriage  he  saw  before  him  Monseigneur's  berline.  He 
made  a  sign  with  his  hand  to  bring  him  another  carriage, 
the  sight  of  that  one  paining  him.  He  was  not,  however, 
so  preoccupied  but  that,  seeing  Pontchartrain,  he  called  to 
him  and  told  him  to  tell  his  father  and  the  other  ministers 
to  be  at  Marly  the  next  morning,  rather  later  than  usual,  for 
the  regular  Wednesday  comicil  of  State.  Without  comment- 
ing on  this  cool  self-possession,  I  merely  report  the  extreme 
surprise  of  those  who  witnessed  it  and  those  who  heard  of  it. 
Pontchartrain  replied  that,  as  there  was  no  question  before 
them  but  current  affairs,  it  might  be  better  to  postpone  the 
council  for  one  day,  in  order  not  to  harass  him.  The  king 
consented.  He  got  into  the  carriage  with  difficulty,  being 
supported  on  both  sides.  Mme.  de  Maintenon  immediately 
took  the  seat  beside  him ;  Mme.  la  Duchesse  and  the  Prin- 
cesse  de  Conti  got  in  after  her  and  took  the  front  seat.  A 
crowd  of  Monseigneur's  servants  and  officials  flung  them- 
selves on  their  knees  the  whole  length  of  the  courtyard,  on 
both  sides  along  the  king's  passage,  crying  out  to  him,  with 
outlandish  howls,  to  have  compassion  on  them,  for  they  had 
lost  everything  and  should  die  of  hunger. 

While  Meudon  was  thus  filled  with  horror,  all  was  tranquil 
at  Versailles,  where  there  were  no  suspicions  of  evil.  We 
The3cencat  had  suppcd.  The  company  had  retired,  and  I 
was  talking  with  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon,  who 
was  undressing  herself  in  order  to  go  to  bed,  when  an  old 
valet,  to  whom  she  had  given  a  place  as  footman  to  the 
Duchesse  de  Berry,  came  in,  f(uite  alarmed,  to  tell  us  that 
there  must  be  some  bad  news  from  Meudon,  for  the  Due  do 
IJourgogne  had  sent  some  one  to  whisper  in  the  ear  of  the 
Due  do  Berry,  whose  eyes  reddened  instantly  ;  thnt  ho  left 
the  table  immediately,  and  a  second  message  having  quickly 
followed,  all  the  company  ro8o  huiiiodly  and  went  into  the 


254  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAIXT-SIMON.    [chap,  ix 

cabinet.  A  change  so  sudden  surprised  me  much.  I  has- 
tened to  the  apartment  of  the  Duchesse  de  Berry;  no  one 
was  there ;  they  had  all  gone  to  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne, 
where  I  went  immediately. 

I  found  the  whole  Court  assembled ;  all  the  ladies  in 
dishabille,  most  of  them  just  ready  to  get  into  bed ;  all  the 
doors  open  ;  every  one  in  trouble.  I  heard  that  Monseigneur 
had  received  extreme  unction ;  that  he  was  now  unconscious, 
and  there  was  no  hope ;  that  the  king  had  left  him  and  had 
sent  word  to  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  that  he  was  going 
to  Marly,  and  she  must  wait  in  the  avenue  between  the  two 
stables  to  see  him  as  he  drove  by. 

The  scene  before  me  attracted  all  the  attention  that  I 
could  give  to  it  amid  the  various  emotions  of  my  own  soul 
and  the  thoughts  that  forced  themselves  upon  my  mind. 
The  two  princes  and  the  two  princesses  were  in  the  httle 
cabinet  behind  the  alcove  of  the  bed.  The  toilet  for  the 
coucher  was  prepared  as  usual  in  the  bedroom,  which  was 
now  filled  with  the  whole  Court  in  confusion.  The  Duchesse 
de  Bourgogne  was  going  and  coming  from  the  httle  cabinet 
to  her  chamber,  while  awaiting  the  moment  to  go  and  meet 
the  king.  Her  bearing,  always  with  her  own  grace,  was  full 
of  trouble  and  compassion,  which  those  who  were  present 
seemed  to  take  for  grief.  She  spoke  or  answered  a  few  brief 
words  to  those  she  passed.  All  present  wore  countenances 
that  were  truly  expressive ;  it  only  needed  eyes,  without 
any  knowledge  of  the  Court,  to  see  the  interests  painted  on 
some  faces,  or  the  blankness  on  that  of  those  who  looked 
for  nothing :  the  latter,  tranquil  as  to  themselves ;  the  others 
either  cruelly  distressed  or  else  very  grave  and  watchful 
to  hide  their  exultation  and  their  joy. 

My  first  action  was  to  inform  myself  in  more  than  one 
direction,  and  not  to  believe  too  much  in  the  scene  or  in 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  255 

what  was  said ;  next,  to  fear  there  was  little  cause  for  so 
much  alarm ;  and  after  that  to  recall  myself  to  a  considera- 
tion of  the  misery  that  is  common  to  all  men,  and  the 
thought  that  I,  too,  would  some  day  find  myself  at  the  gates 
of  death.  Nevertheless,  joy  forced  its  way  through  the 
momentary  reflections  of  religion  and  humanity  with  wliich 
I  endeavoured  to  restrain  myself.  My  personal  deliverance 
seemed  to  me  so  great  and  so  unhoped-for  that  I  felt,  from 
an  evidence  more  perfect  than  the  truth,  that  the  State 
gained  everything  by  such  a  loss.  Amid  these  thoughts  I 
had,  in  spite  of  myself,  a  dread  lest  the  patient  should  even 
now  recover,  and  I  felt  extreme  shame  at  the  thought. 

Driven  in,  as  it  were,  upon  myself,  I  nevertheless  sent 
word  to  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  that  she  had  better  be  pres- 
ent, and  I  continued  to  watch  with  clandestine  looks  each 
face,  each  bearing,  each  movement ;  to  delectate  my  curiosity ; 
to  feed  the  ideas  I  had  formed  of  each  personage  (in  which  I 
have  seldom  been  mistaken),  and  to  draw  just  conjectures  of 
the  truth  from  those  first  impulses  of  which  the  human 
being  is  so  seldom  master,  —  motions  which  to  him  who 
knows  the  chart  and  men,  are  sure  indications  of  connections 
and  sentiments  almost  invisible  and  always  kept  hidden  at 
other  times. 

I  saw  the  Duchesse  d'Orl^ans  arrive,  whose  majestic  and 
disciplined  face  told  nothing.  She  entered  the  little  cabinet, 
from  which  she  soon  returned  with  the  Due  d'Orldans,  whose 
activity  and  restless  manner  showed  more  the  excitement  of 
tlie  scene  tlian  any  other  feeling.  They  went  away,  and  T 
mention  it  expressly  because  of  something  that  soon  after 
hap[Kined  in  my  presence. 

A  few  moments  later  1  saw  in  the  distance,  through  the 
(l(if)r  of  the  littl(!  cabinet,  the  Due  do  Hourgogno  ;  he  n]»- 
p(;are(l  to  be  pained  and  greatly  agitated ;  but  the  glanco  I 


256  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  ix. 

cast  upon  him  showed  me  nothing  tender,  only  the  deep 
preoccupation  of  a  shocked  mind. 

Valets  and  waiting-maids  were  already  crying  out  indis- 
creetly; and  their  grief  showed  plainly  what  that  class  of 
people  were  about  to  lose.  Just  half  an  hour  after  midnight 
news  was  brought  of  the  king,  and  immediately  after  I  saw 
the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  leave  the  little  cabinet  with  her 
husband,  whose  manner  was  more  moved  than  it  seemed  to 
me  before,  and  who  immediately  returned  to  the  cabinet. 
The  princess  took  from  her  dressing-table  a  scarf  and  her 
hood,  standing  up  with  a  deliberate  air ;  then  she  passed 
through  the  room,  her  eyes  hardly  moist,  but  casting  furtive 
and  questioning  glances  to  the  right  and  left ;  then,  followed 
by  her  ladies,  she  went  to  her  carriage  by  the  great  staircase. 

As  she  left  the  room  I  took  my  opportunity  to  go  to  the 
Duchesse  d'Orldans,  with  whom  I  was  broiling  to  be.  Enter- 
ing there,  I  was  told  she  had  gone  to  Madame.  I  followed 
her  through  their  apartments  and  met  her  returning ;  with 
a  very  grave  air  she  asked  me  to  come  back  with  her.  The 
Due  d'Orldans  had  remained  in  his  cabinet.  She  sat  down 
in  her  room,  and  beside  her  was  the  Duchesse  de  Villerov 
the  Mardchale  de  Rochefort,  and  five  or  six  other  intimate 
ladies.  I  was  fretting  with  impatience  at  so  much  company. 
The  Duchesse  d'Orldans,  who  was  not  less  annoyed,  took  a 
light  and  passed  into  the  next  room.  I  then  said  a  word  in 
the  ear  of  the  Duchesse  de  Villeroy ;  she  and  I  thought 
alike  on  the  present  event.  She  nudged  me,  and  told  me  in 
a  low  voice  to  control  myself.  I  was  choking  with  silence 
amid  tlie  regrets  and  the  hasty  narratives  of  the  various 
ladies,  when  the  Due  d'Orl^ans  appeared  at  the  door  of 
the  cabinet  and  called  me. 

I  followed  him  into  his  little  back  cabinet  below  upon 
the  gallery,  —  he,  near  to  fainting,  I  with  my  legs  trembling 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  257 

from  all  that  was  passing  before  my  eyes  and  within  me. 

We  sat  down,  by  chance  facing  each  other.     What  was  my 

astonishment  when,  a  moment  later,  I  saw  the 

Surprising  tears 

of  the  Due  tears  dropping  from  his  eyes.      "  Monsieur ! "  I 

d'Orle'ans.  .,...,,  »  .  -,t 

cried,  rismg  in  the  excess  oi  my  surprise.  Jie 
understood  me  at  once,  and  answered,  in  a  broken  voice  and 
weeping  veritably  :  "  You  have  reason  to  be  surprised ;  I  am 
myself ;  but  the  sight  touches.  He  was  a  kind  man,  with 
whom  I  have  passed  my  life ;  he  treated  me  well  and  with 
friendship  so  long  as  they  let  him  alone  and  he  acted  for 
himself.  I  know  this  grief  will  not  last  long ;  I  shall  find  in 
a  few  days  good  reason  to  console  myself ;  but  just  now  blood, 
proximity,  humanity,  they  all  touch,  they  stir  the  feelings." 
I  praised  the  sentiment,  but  I  owned  my  extreme  surprise  in 
view  of  how  he  stood  with  Monseigneur.  He  rose,  put  his 
head  into  a  corner  with  his  nose  to  the  wall,  and  wept  bit- 
terly, with  sobs ;  a  thing  which  I  never  should  have  believed 
if  I  had  not  seen  it.  After  a  short  silence,  I  exhorted  him  to 
calm  himself ;  reminding  Mm  that  he  must  immediately  re- 
turn to  meet  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  and  that  if  he  was 
seen  with  weeping  eyes  there  was  not  a  soul  but  what  would 
scorn  it  as  a  piece  of  misplaced  comedy,  knowing,  as  the 
Court  did  very  well,  how  he  lived  with  Monseigneur.  He 
did  what  he  could  to  stop  his  tears  and  dry  his  eyes ; 
and  was  still  at  work  at  it  when  a  message  came  that  the 
Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  was  returning  and  the  Duchesse 
d'Orleans  was  going  to  her.  He  joined  his  wife,  and  I 
followed  them. 

The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  stopping  in  the  avenue  be- 
tween the  two  stables,  had  only  waited  a  short  time  for  the 
Scene  at  Ver-  \^ing.  As  soon  as  he  approached  she  got  out 
•aiiie.  continued,  of  y^^j.  Carriage  and  went  to  the  door  of  his. 
Mmo.  do  Maintcnon,  who  was  on  that  aide,  cried  out, 
VOL.  n.  — 17 


258  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  rs. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  madame  ?  Do  not  come  near  us ; 
we  are  contagious."  I  do  not  know  what  the  king  said  or 
did,  but  he  did  not  kiss  her,  on  account  of  the  infected  air. 
The  princess  at  once  got  back  into  her  carriage  and  returned 
to  the  chateau. 

The  secrecy  which  Fagon  had  imposed  as  to  Monsei- 
gneur's  real  condition  had  so  deceived  every  one  that  the 
Due  de  BeauviUiers  returned  to  Versailles  after  the  council 
of  despatches  to  sleep  there,  contrary  to  his  custom  since 
Monseigneur's  ilhiess.  As  he  always  rose  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, he  v.'ent  to  bed  by  ten  o'clock,  and  did  so  on  this  even- 
ing, fearing  nothing.  He  was  not  long  asleep  before  he  was 
awakened  by  a  message  from  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne 
who  sent  for  him,  and  he  reached  her  apartment  just  before 
her  return  from  the  passing  of  the  king.  She  found  the  two 
princes  and  the  Duchesse  de  Berry  in  the  httle  room  where 
she  had  left  them,  and  the  Due  de  BeauviUiers  with  them. 

After  the  first  embraces  of  her  return,  which  told  all,  were 
over,  the  Due  de  BeauviUiers,  seeing  that  they  were  stifling 
in  that  small  room,  made  them  pass  through  the  chamber 
to  a  salon  which  separated  the  chamber  from  the  gallery. 
There  the  windows  were  opened,  and  the  two  princes,  each 
with  his  piincess  beside  him,  sat  down  on  a  sofa  near  to 
the  windows,  which  stood  with  its  back  to  the  gallery ;  all 
the  Court  were  scattered  about  in  confusion  around  this 
salon  and  the  gallery,  the  most  familiar  ladies  on  the  ground 
at  the  feet  or  very  near  the  sofa  of  the  princes. 

There,  throughout  the  whole  apartment,  on  the  faces  of 
all  could  be  plainly  read  the  fact  that  Monseigneur  was  no 
more  ;  all  knew  it,  all  faces  said  it ;  observance  towards  him 
no  longer  constrained  any  one ;  and  these  first  moments  were 
those  of  first  impulse,  depicted  undisguisedly,  free  from  all 
policy  and   yet  sagacious,  amid   the  trouble,  the  agitation, 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,  259 

the  surprise,  the  crowd,  the  confused  scene  of  this  night 
assembly. 

In  the  outer  room  was  audible  the  smothered  groaning  of 
the  valets,  desperate  at  the  loss  of  a  master  so  expressly 
made  for  them ;  inconsolable  at  the  prospect  of  another, 
whom  they  foresaw  with  dread,  but  who,  by  this  death, 
would  become  their  master.  Among  them  were  other  valets, 
belonging  to  the  most  interested  and  principal  personages 
of  the  Court ;  and  it  was  easy  to  see  from  their  manner  what 
shop  they  swept. 

Next  came  the  crowd  of  courtiers  of  all  species.  The 
greater  number,  that  is  to  say,  the  weaker  heads,  drew  sighs 
from  their  heels,  and  with  dry  and  wandering  eyes  praised 
Monseigneur,  but  always  with  one  praise,  that  of  kindness, 
pitying  the  king  for  the  loss  of  so  good  a  son.  The  shrewd- 
est among  them,  or  the  most  far-seeing,  showed  anxiety  for 
the  health  of  the  king ;  they  were  thankful  that  they  kept 
their  judgment  amid  this  trouble,  and  did  not  fail  to  show 
it  by  the  frequent  repetition  of  these  fears.  Others,  really 
afflicted,  belonging  to  the  stricken  cabal,  wept  bitterly,  or 
controlled  themselves  with  an  effort  as  easy  to  remark  as 
sobs.  The  strongest  of  these,  or  the  most  politic,  withdrawn 
into  corners,  their  eyes  fixed  on  the  ground,  were  meditating 
deeply  on  the  consequences  of  an  event  so  little  expected, 
above  all  as  it  aHccted  themselves.  Among  these  variously 
afflicted  ones  little  or  no  communion,  no  conversation,  ex- 
clamations of  grief  now  and  then,  here  and  there  replied 
to  by  a  neighbouring  sorrow,  one  word  in  many  minutes, 
eyes  sombre  or  haggard,  motions  of  the  hand  less  rare  than 
involimtary  ;  for  tlin  rest,  almost  comi)l('to  iiiunoliility ;  of 
merely  ciirioiiH,  iiKliU'crcnt  persons  scarcely  any,  unless  a  few 
fool.H  who  li;i(l  the  talk,  the  cackle,  the  questions  to  thom- 
selvcH,  redoubling  l]u:   dcspiiir  of  tht;   iillIicttMl   iiml   (ho  op- 


260  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap,  ix 

pression  of  the  rest.  Those  who  regarded  the  event  as 
favourable  vainly  tried  to  turn  gravity  into  a  sorrowful  and 
austere  demeanour;  it  was  only  a  transparent  veil,  which 
could  not  keep  good  eyes  from  seeing  and  distinguishing  all 
their  features.  These  persons  held  themselves  as  fixedly 
still  as  the  most  afflicted;  on  their  guard  against  opinion, 
against  curiosity,  against  their  own  satisfaction  and  their 
own  motions ;  but  their  eyes  made  up  for  the  lack  of  agita- 
tion in  their  bodies.  Changes  of  posture,  as  of  men  uneasily 
seated,  or  tired  of  standing ;  a  certain  care  in  avoiding  one 
another,  even  to  the  meeting  of  their  eyes ;  momentary 
incidents  resulting  from  a  chance  encounter ;  something,  I 
know  not  what,  that  was  more  free  in  the  whole  person, 
appearing  through  all  this  care  to  compose  and  to  command 
themselves  ;  a  life,  a  sparkle  about  them  that  was  visible  in 
spite  of  all  that  they  could  do. 

The  two  princes,  and  the  two  princesses  seated  at  their 
side  and  taking  care  of  them,  were  those  who  were  most 
exposed  to  view.  The  Due  de  Bourgogne  wept  with  tender 
emotion,  and  in  good  faith,  gently,  tears  of  nature,  religion, 
patience.  The  Due  de  Berry  also  sincerely  shed  them  in 
abundance,  but  they  were,  so  to  speak,  violent  tears,  in  which 
the  bitterness  seemed  great ;  issuing  not  only  in  sobs,  —  but 
"with  cries  and  even  howls.  Sometimes  he  was  silent  from 
suffocation,  then  the  cries  would  burst  forth  again  with  such 
noise,  the  trumpet  noise  of  great  despair,  that  many  others 
joined  in  these  painful  outcries,  either  from  a  real  sting  of 
bitterness  or  the  goad  of  propriety.  It  reached  a  point  at 
last  when  they  were  forced  to  loosen  his  clothes,  prepare 
remedies,  and  summon  the  Faculty.  The  Duchesse  de  Berry 
was  beside  herself,  we  shall  presently  see  why.  The  most 
bitter  despair  was  painted  with  horror  on  her  face.  One 
could  see  there,  as  if  written,  a  fury  of  sorrow,  not  of  friend- 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  261 

ship  but  of  self-interest ;  di^'-eyed  at  intervals,  but  deep  and 
sullen  ;  then  a  torrent  of  tears,  with  involuntary  yet  arrested 
gestures,  showing  the  most  extreme  bitterness  of  soul,  the 
fruit  of  a  meditation  just  preceding  it.  Often  roused  by  the 
cries  of  her  husband,  she  was  prompt  in  supporting,  relieving, 
embracing  him,  or  in  giving  him  something  to  smell ;  then, 
as  quickly,  came  a  deep  fall  back  into  herself,  followed  by  a 
torrent  of  tears  in  which  her  cries  were  choked. 

The  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  consoled  her  husband  also, 
and  found  less  trouble  in  doing  so  than  in  showing  a  need 
on  her  own  part  for  consolation.  Without  exhibiting  any 
false  feeling  it  could  plainly  be  seen  that  she  was  doing  her 
best  to  fulfil  the  duty  of  a  propriety  which  she  felt,  but 
which  often  refuses  to  come  at  need.  The  frequent  use  of 
her  handkerchief  replied  to  the  cries  of  her  brother-in-law. 
A  few  tears  produced  by  the  scene,  and  encouraged,  helped 
the  art  of  the  handkerchief  to  redden  and  swell  the  eyes 
and  face,  but  a  frequent  furtive  glance  wandered  from  those 
about  her  to  the  faces  of  all. 

The  Due  de  Beauvilliers,  standing  near  them,  with  a  cold 
and  tranquil  air,  as  at  an  ordinary  scene  or  one  of  no  in- 
terest, gave  his  orders  for  the  relief  of  the  princes,  allowing 
but  few  persons  to  enter  the  salon,  though  the  doors  stood 
open,  and  doing  what  was  needful  without  haste  or  excite- 
ment, without  mistakes  of  any  kind,  either  as  to  persons  or 
things  ;  in  fact,  as  he  would  have  done  at  an  ordinary  lever 
or  coucher.  This  composure  lasted  without  the  slightest 
alteration,  —  equally  removed,  by  religion,  from  gladnei-^s  and 
also  from  concealing  that  the  amount  of  sorrow  which  ho 
felt  was  HUiall,  —  ])resorving  tlio  truth  throughout. 

Madame,  having  reolothcd  herscll"  in  full  dress,  arrived 
shrieking,  without  really  knowing  why  she  did  oitluu-.  aud 
inundated  with  tears  all  those  she  embraced,  —  making  the 


262  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUC  DE  SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  ix. 

chateau  resound  with  her  cries,  and  presenting  the  odd 
spectacle  of  a  princess  putting  on  her  garments  of  cere- 
mony in  the  dead  of  night  to  come  and  weep  and  shriek 
among  a  crowd  of  women  in  their  night-gowns  and  almost 
in  masquerade. 

The  Duchesse  d'Orl^ans  had  left  the  princes,  and  was 
seated  near  the  fireplace,  her  back  to  the  gallery,  and  several 
ladies  with  her.  All  being  very  silent  about  her,  these 
ladies,  little  by  little,  withdrew  from  her  neighbourhood, 
which  gave  her  great  relief.  None  remained  but  the 
Duchesse  Sforza,  Mme.  de  Castries,  her  lady  of  the  bed- 
chamber, and  ]\Ime.  de  Saint-Simon.  Delighted  at  their 
freedom,  they  drew  together  in  a  little  knot  by  the  side  of 
a  tent-bed  with  curtains,  which  they  pulled  together,  and 
as  they  were  all  of  one  mind  in  regard  to  the  event  which 
had  assembled  the  whole  Court,  they  began  to  talk  in  a 
low  voice  freely  to  each  other. 

In  the  galler)%  and  in  this  salon,  in  fact  through  all 
the  grand  apartments,  a  number  of  cots  were  set  up  at 
night,  in  which  the  Suisses  and  the  floor-rubbers  slept  to 
protect  the  premises ;  these  cots  had  been  put  up  as  usual 
before  the  bad  news  had  arrived  from  Meudon.  In  the 
midst  of  the  conversation  of  these  ladies,  Mme.  de  Cas- 
tries, who  leaned  against  the  side  of  the  bed,  felt  it 
move,  and  was  greatly  alarmed,  for,  clever  as  she  was, 
she  was  frightened  at  everything.  A  moment  later  they 
saw  a  stout  arm,  almost  bare,  puU  open  the  curtains  and 
reveal  between  the  sheets  a  worthy  Suisse  guard,  half- 
awake  and  quite  aghast,  and  very  slow  to  recognize  his 
company,  whom  he  gazed  at  fixedly,  one  after  the  other, 
until,  thinking  it  not  advisable  to  rise  in  the  midst  of  such 
grand  company,  he  buried  himself  under  the  coverlet  and 
dropped  the  curtains.     The  worthy  man  had  evidently  gone 


1711]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  263 

to  bed  before  the  news  came,  and  had  slept  so  soundly  that 
nothing  had  waked  him.  The  saddest  scenes  are  liable  to 
ridiculous  contrasts ;  this  one  made  the  ladies  laugh,  but 
the  Duchesse  d'Orldans  was  rather  frightened  lest  what 
they  had  been  saying  should  have  been  overheard.  How- 
ever, on  reflection,  the  evident  sleepiness  and  stupidity  of 
the  individual  reassured  her. 

I  myself  still  chose  to  doubt;  though  all  things  showed 
me  the  truth,  I  could  not  abandon  myself  to  a  belief 
in  it  until  it  was  told  me  by  one  in  whom  I  must  put 
faith.  Chance  made  me  encounter  M.  d'O,  whom  I  ques- 
tioned, and  he  told  me  the  fact  plainly.  That  known,  I 
tried  not  to  be  glad.  I  do  not  know  whether  I  succeeded 
very  well ;  but  at  least  it  is  true  that  neither  joy  nor  sorrow 
blunted  my  curiosity,  and  while  taking  care  to  preserve 
all  proper  appearances,  I  did  not  think  myself  bound  to 
play  the  part  of  grief.  I  feared  the  return  fire  of  the  citadel 
of  Meudon  no  longer,  nor  the  cruel  pursuit  of  its  implacable 
garrison,  and  I  restrained  myself  less  than  before  the  king 
pissed  to  Marly  in  watching  freely  this  numerous  company  ; 
letting  my  eyes  dwell  on  tliose  most  closely  touched,  and 
on  those  who  were  less  so,  from  different  motives ;  follow- 
ing this  one  and  that  one  with  my  glances,  and  penetrating 
them  all  by  stealth.  It  must  be  owned  that  to  whoever  is 
thf)roughly  informed  on  tlie  secret  map  of  a  Court,  the  first 
sight  of  rare  events  of  this  nature,  so  interesting  for  so  many 
divers  reasons,  brings  extreme  satisfaction.  Each  face  re- 
calls to  you  the  toils,  the  intrigues,  the  sweatings  employed 
to  advance  fortunes,  to  form  and  strengthen  cabals ;  the 
c-nriniiig  shown  in  maintaining  self  and  nnnoving  others, 
and  th(!  iri<!fins  of  (-vi^ry  kind  set  going  for  that  purpose; 
the  intimacies  more  or  loss  advanced  ;  the  eatrangoniunts,  the 
coldness,  the  hatreds;  the  ill-turns  done,  the  niancruvres,  the 


264  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.      [cHAr.  ix. 

advances,  the  cautious  management,  the  littleness,  and  the 
baseness  of  each  and  all ;  the  disconcerting  of  some  in 
the  midst  of  their  path  or  at  the  summit  of  their  hopes; 
the  stupefaction  of  those  whose  joy  is  made  full ;  the  shock 
given  by  the  same  stroke  to  their  opponents ;  tlie  force  of 
the  impulsion  v/hich  sends  in  an  instant  all  the  actions  of 
the  former,  all  their  alliances  towards  good  ;  the  extreme  and 
unhoped-for  satisfaction  that  comes  to  these  (and  I  was  of 
the  foremost  among  them) ;  the  rage  of  the  others,  and  their 
embarrassment  and  vexation  in  hiding  it.  And  with  all  this 
the  quickness  of  the  eye  in  flying  everywhere  and  in  sound- 
ing souls,  thanks  to  that  first  startle  of  surprise  and  sudden 
overthrow  ;  the  combinations  that  we  see ;  the  astonishment 
we  feel  in  not  finding  what  we  expected  in  some,  for  want 
of  heart  or  from  deficiency  of  mind,  and  more  in  others  than 
we  ever  expected;  all  this  mass  of  living  objects  and  of 
things  so  important  form  a  pleasure  to  him  who  knows 
how  to  take  it,  which,  little  sohd  as  it  may  be,  is  one  of  the 
greatest  to  be  enjoyed   at   a  Court. 

It  was  to  tliis,  therefore,  that  I  delivered  myself  up  wholly 
within  myself,  —  with  all  the  more  abandonment  because,  in 
a  very  real  deliverance,  I  found  myself  closely  bound  and 
embarked  with  the  principal  heads  who  had  no  tears  to  put 
into  their  eyes.  I  enjoyed  their  gain  without  counterpoise, 
and  their  satisfaction  which  enhanced  my  owti,  which  con- 
solidated my  hopes,  elevated  them,  and  assured  me  of  peace, 
of  which  without  this  event  I  had  seen  so  little  prospect  that 
my  mind  never  ceased  to  be  uneasy  about  the  melancholy 
future.  On  the  other  hand,  enemy  to  the  cabals,  almost  the 
personal  enemy  of  the  principal  personages  whom  this  loss 
overwhelmed,  I  saw,  at  a  first  glance  keenly  given,  their  sense 
of  what  escaped  them  and  all  that  crushed  them  with  a 
pleasure  that  cannot  be  described.     I  had  so  strongly  im- 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  265 

pressed  in  iny  head  the  different  cabals,  their  subdivisions, 
their  inner  folds,  their  diverse  personages  and  their  degrees, 
the  knowledge  of  their  ways,  their  means,  their  various  inter- 
ests, that  a  meditation  of  several  days  could  not  have 
developed  and  presented  these  things  more  clearly  than  that 
first  aspect  of  all  those  faces,  which  recalled  to  me  also 
others  that  I  did  not  see,  but  which  were  none  the  less 
dainty  to  feed  upon. 

I  have  therefore  paused  awhile  to  consider  the  spectacle 
in  these  different  rooms  of  this  vast  and  now  tumultuous 
apartment.  The  disorder  lasted  over  an  hour,  during  which 
time  the  Duchesse  du  Lude,  in  bed  with  the  gout,  did  not 
appear.  At  last  M.  cle  Beauvilliers  felt  it  was  time  to  dehver 
the  two  princes  from  so  painful  a  publicity.  He  proposed 
therefore  that  the  Due  and  Duchesse  de  Berry  should  retire 
to  their  own  apartment,  and  that  the  Court  retire  from  that 
of  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne.  The  advice  was  at  once 
followed ;  the  Due  de  Berry  walked  partly  alone,  partly  sup- 
ported by  his  wife,  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  with  them  and  a 
handful  of  servants.  I  followed  them  at  a  distance,  not  to 
expose  my  curiosity  to  remark.  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  and 
I,  after  she  had  left  the  Due  and  Duchesse  de  Berry,  had 
still  two  hours  together.  Eeason  rather  than  need  induced 
us  to  go  to  bed,  but  we  had  so  little  sleep  that  by  seven  in 
the  morning  I  was  up,  although  it  must  be  owned  that  such 
insomnia  is  sweet,  and  such  wakings  delectable. 

Horror  reigned  at  Meudon.  As  soon  as  the  king  departed 
all  wlio  Ijclonged  to  the  Court  followed  him,  cramming  them- 
Horrorat  flolvos  into  what  cnrringcs  thoy  could  find  in 

Meudon  (^],y  courtyard  and  Bomo  that  camo  in  shortly 

nfU'.r.  Ill  ;i  moment  Moudou  was  empty.  Mile,  de  Lisle- 
boiiiKj  and  Mile,  do  Mciliiii  wv.ut  u\)  to  Mllo.  Choiii,  who,  shut 
ii)»  ill  her  garret,  wiih  only  juHt  beginning  to  full  into  nuntul 


266  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG  DE   SAEs'T-SIMON.      [chap.  ix. 

fright.  She  had  known  nothing;  no  one  had  thought  of 
telling  her  what  was  happening.  She  learned  her  misfortune 
only  from  the  cries.  The  two  friends  threw  her  into  a  hired 
carriage  that  chanced  to  be  there,  got  in  themselves  and  took 
her  to  Paris.  As  for  the  ministers,  Pontchar train,  before  he 
left,  went  up  to  Voysin.  He  found  his  servants  hard  to  rouse 
and  he  himself  asleep ;  he  had  gone  to  bed  without  any  sus- 
picion of  evil  and  was  strangely  surprised  on  awaking.  But 
the  Comte  de  Brionne  was  far  more  so.  He  and  his  servants 
had  gone  to  bed  in  the  same  confidence ;  no  one  thought  of 
them.  When  he  rose  in  the  morning  he  observed  a  great 
silence ;  he  went  out  to  hear  the  news  and  found  no  one,  till, 
at  last,  to  his  amazement  he  learned  what  had  happened. 

The  crowd  of  Monseigneuf  s  household  officers  and  servants, 
and  many  others,  wandered  all  night  about  the  gardens. 
The  courtiers  had  scattered  and  gone  away  on  foot.  The 
breaking-up  was  entire,  the  dispersion  general.  One  or  two 
valets  at  the  most  stayed  near  the  corpse,  and,  what  is 
worthy  of  praise,  La  Valhfere  was  the  only  courtier  who, 
having  never  abandoned  him  in  life,  did  not  now  abandon  him 
in  death.  He  had  great  trouble  in  finding  some  one  to  send 
in  search  of  capuchins  to  come  and  pray  to  God  beside  the 
body.  But  decomposition  was  so  rapid  and  so  great  that 
the  opening  of  doors  and  windows  did  not  suffice,  and  La 
ValHfere,  the  capuchins,  and  the  very  few  lower  servants 
who  remained  passed  the  rest  of  the  night  in  the  garden. 
Du  Mont  and  Casau,  his  nephew,  torn  by  the  deepest  grief, 
were  on  duty  in  the  guard-room.  They  lost  everything, 
after  a  long  life  of  ceaseless  cares,  assiduities,  and  toil,  sup- 
ported by  the  most  flattering  and  reasonable  hopes  prolonged 
for  many  years,  which  failed  them  in  a  moment.  Du  Mont 
was  scarcely  able  to  give  a  few  orders  in  the  morning.  I 
pitied  that  one  with  friendship. 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  267 

Such  confidence  had  been  felt  that  no  one  had  even 
dreamed  that  the  king  would  go  to  Marly.  Therefore 
c  nf  si  n  at  uothing  was  ready ;   no   keys    for  the  doors ; 

Marly.  scarcely  a  candle-end,  not  even  tallow-candles. 

The  king  was  an  hour  in  this  state,  sitting  in  the  ante- 
chamber of  Mme.  de  Maintenon's  room  with  her,  Mme.  la 
Duchesse,  the  Princesse  de  Conti,  and  Mmes.  de  Dangeau  and 
de  Caylus,  the  latter  having  hurried  from  Versailles  to  meet 
her  aunt;  others  who  followed  her,  arriving  in  succession, 
had  to  stay  in  the  salon,  which  was  all  in  disarray,  not  know- 
ing where  else  to  put  themselves.  People  felt  about  in  the 
dark,  without  even  a  fire,  and  the  keys  when  found  were 
mixed  by  the  bewilderment  of  the  valets.  The  boldest  of 
those  in  the  salon  showed,  little  by  little,  their  heads  in  the 
antechamber.  The  king  sat  withdrawn  in  a  corner  between 
Mme.  de  Maintenon  and  the  two  princesses,  and  wept  at  in- 
tervals. At  last  Mme.  de  Maintenon's  chamber  vras  opened, 
which  relieved  the  king  of  this  discomfort.  He  entered 
with  her  and  remained  an  hour.  He  then  went  to  bed  in 
his  own  room,  it  being  by  that  time  nearly  four  o'clock,  and 
left  her  at  liberty  to  breathe  and  recover  herself.  The  king 
once  in  bed,  other  people  obtained  their  lodgings.  Bloin  had 
orders  to  spread  the  information  that  all  persons  who  w'shsd 
to  go  to  Marly  must  address  themselves  to  him,  in  order 
tliat  lie  miglit  lay  their  names  before  the  king  and  notify 
the  elect. 


X. 

MoNSEiGNEUR  was  tall  rather  than  short,  very  stout  but 
not  thickset ;  his  air  was  proud  and  very  lofty,  but  never 
Character  of  harsh  ;  and  he  would  have  had  a  very  agreeable 
Monseigneur.  ^^^^  ^f  ^^^  Prince  de  Conti  (the  one  who  died 
last)  had  not  broken  his  nose  by  accident  when  they  were 
both  children,  in  playing.  He  was  a  very  handsome  blond, 
with  a  ruddy  skin  and  full  cheeks,  but  with  no  countenance 
whatever,  the  finest  legs  in  the  world,  the  feet  slender  and 
singularly  small.  He  tiptoed  in  w^alking,  that  is,  he  put  his 
foot  down  twice  ;  he  was  always  afraid  of  falling,  and  called 
for  help  if  the  path  was  not  perfectly  straight  and  smooth. 
He  looked  very  well  on  horseback  and  had  a  noble  mien,  but 
he  was  not  bold.  Casau  always  rode  before  him  in  hunting. 
If  he  lost  sight  of  him  he  thought  himself  lost ;  would  never 
ride  beyond  a  slow  gallop,  and  would  often  wait  under  a  tree 
to  see  what  became  of  the  hunt,  and  then  follow  slowly  or  else 
return  home.  He  had  always  been  fond  of  eating,  but  never 
with  indecency  ;  after  his  great  attack  of  indigestion,  which 
was  thought  to  be  apoplexy,  he  made  but  one  real  meal  a 
day,  and  restrained  himself  much,  —  although  a  great  eater, 
like  the  rest  of  the  royal  family.  Nearly  all  his  portraits 
resemble  him. 

As  for  character,  he  had  none ;  some  sense,  but  absolutely 
no  mind ;  haughty  and  dignified  by  nature,  by  deportment, 
and  by  copying  the  king ;  obstinate  beyond  measure,  with  a 
series  of  regulated  pettinesses  that  made  the  tissue  of  his 
life ;  gentle  from  laziness  and  a  sort  of  stupidity ;  hard  at 


/ft//.) I  /(////  //  /• 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  269 

bottom,  with  an  external  kindness  shown  chiefly  to  subal- 
terns and  valets,  and  only  expressed  in  common  ways.  With 
them  he  was  extremely  familiar ;  insensible,  however,  to  the 
misery  and  sorrow  of  others ;  which  was,  perhaps,  more  the 
result  of  his  carelessness  and  imitation  than  from  hardness 
of  nature ;  incredibly  silent,  consequently  very  secret ;  so 
much  so  that  people  thought  he  had  never  spoken  of  State 
affairs  to  the  Choin,  —  perhaps  because  neither  could  under- 
stand them.  Density  on  the  one  hand,  timidity  on  the  other, 
put  a  reserve  into  this  prince  which  has  few  examples ;  at 
the  same  time  he  was  vainglorious  to  excess,  which  is  an 
odd  thing  to  say  of  a  dauphin;  very  exacting  of  respect  and 
almost  solely  solicitous  and  occupied  about  what  was  due  to 
him.  He  once  said  to  Mile.  Choin,  who  spoke  to  him  of 
his  silence,  that  the  words  of  men  in  his  position  had  great 
weight,  and  compelled  great  reparations  if  they  were  not 
very  cautiously  measured,  and  for  that  reason  he  often  pre- 
ferred to  keep  silence  rather  than  to  speak.  Also,  it  was 
easier  done  for  his  laziness  and  indifference.  This  excellent 
maxim,  which  he  exaggerated  in  practice,  was  apparently 
one  of  the  lessons  given  him  by  the  king  or  the  Due  de 
Montausier  which  he  had  best  retained. 

His  methodical  arrangement  of  all  his  private  affairs  was 
extreme ;  he  himself  wrote  down  all  his  items  of  expense. 
He  knew  what  the  slightest  tiling  cost  him,  though  he  spent 
immensely  on  buildings,  furniture,  jewels  of  all  kinds,  trips 
to  Meudon,  and  his  wolf-hunting  equipment,  for  he  had 
made  himself  believe  that  he  liked  to  hunt.  He  was  fond 
of  all  sorts  of  heavy  play ;  but  after  he  began  to  build  he 
reduced  himself  to  moderate  stakes.  Tn  other  respects, 
miserly  beyond  all  propriety;  except  on  very  rare  occasiona 
when  he  gave  a  few  pensions  to  valets  and  his  lower  ser- 
vants;   but   ho   always   gave   alms   to   the   vicar    and    the 


270  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  i. 

capuchins  of  Meudon.  It  is  incredible  how  little  he  gave 
to  the  Choin,  his  best-beloved ;  never  more  than  four  hun- 
dred louis  a  quarter,  in  gold,  no  matter  what  their  value 
might  be,  —  making  in  all  sixteen  hundred  louis  a  year ; 
which  he  gave  her  himself  from  hand  to  hand,  without 
adding  or  forgetting  so  much  as  a  pistole ;  and  at  the  most 
a  present  or  two  a  year,  and  those  very  closely  calculated. 

Justice  should  be  done  to  this  woman  by  agreeing  that  it 

would  have  been  hard  to  be  more  disinterested  than  she 

showed  herself,  whether  because  she  knew  the 

Problem  if  he 

was  married  to  ncccssity  with  tliis  prince,  or  whether,  as  it 
°^'  would  seem  from  the  whole  tissue  of  her  life, 
it  was  natural  to  her.  It  is  still  a  problem  whether  she  was 
married  to  him  or  not.  All  those  who  were  most  inti- 
mately initiated  into  their  mysteries  have  always  loudly 
declared  that  there  never  was  a  marriage.  She  was  a  stout, 
flat-faced,  dark  creature,  who,  with  an  intelligent  and  also  a 
lively  countenance,  looked  like  a  servant,  and  long  before 
Monseigneur's  death  had  grown  very  fat  and  old  and  odor- 
iferous. But  seeing  her  at  the  parvulos  of  Meudon,  in  an 
arm-chair  beside  Monseigneur  in  presence  of  all  who  were 
admitted  there,  of  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  and  the 
Duchesse  de  Berry,  who  sat  on  their  stools,  and  hearing  her 
answer,  often  sharply,  these  daughters  of  the  house,  reprove 
them,  find  fault  with  their  attire  and  sometimes  with  then- 
manner,  their  behaviour,  their  remarks,  it  was  difficult  not  to 
recognize  a  mother-in-law  and  an  equality  with  Mme.  de 
Maintenon.  Moreover,  the  presence  of  Mile.  Choin  at  Meu- 
don during  this  fatal  illness,  she  seeing  Monseigneur  con- 
stantly every  day,  the  king  not  only  knowing  it  but  asking 
Mme.  de  Maintenon,  who  neither  at  Meudon  nor  elsewhere 
ever  saw  strangers  and  did  not  go  twice  into  Monseigneur's 
room, —  asking  her,  I  say,  if  she  had  seen  the  Choin  and 


nil]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  271 

thinking  it  wrong  that  she  had  not  done  so,  instead  of  sending 
her  from  the  chateau  as  was  always  done  on  such  occasions, 
is  still  another  proof  of  marriage,  all  the  greater  because 
Mme.  de  Maintenon,  married  herself  and  who  set  up  so 
strongly  for  religion  and  prudery,  had  no  interest,  nor  had 
the  king,  for  circumspection  in  the  matter  unless  there 
had  been  a  sacrament.  This  incomprehensible  tie,  so  like 
to  that  of  the  king,  is  perhaps  the  only  point  on  which  the 
son  resembled  the  father. 

Monseigneur,  such  in  mind  as  I  have  just  represented 
him,  could  not  have  profited  by  the  excellent  instruction  he 
received  from  the  Due  de  Montausier,  Bossuet,  and  Flt^chier, 
bishops  of  Meaux  and  Nimes.  His  few  ideas,  if  indeed  he 
had  any,  were  stifled  under  the  rigour  of  a  hard  and  austere 
education,  which  gave  the  last  touch  to  his  naturally  timid 
disposition,  and  the  utmost  degree  of  aversion  for  all  species, 
I  will  not  say  of  work  or  study,  but  of  mere  amusement  of 
mind ;  so  that,  by  his  own  admission,  after  he  was  once 
free  of  masters,  he  had  never  in  his  life  read  anything  but 
the  Paris  article  in  the  "  Gazette  de  France "  to  see  the 
deaths  and  marriages. 

All  thing?  in  him,  therefore,  his  natural  timidity,  the  hard 
yoke  of  his  bringing-up,  his  absolute  ignorance  and  want  of 
ideas,  contributed  to  make  him  tremble  before  the  king,  who, 
on  his  side,  omitted  nothing  to  promote  and  prolong  this 
terror  throughout  his  life.  Always  the  king,  never  the 
father  with  his  son,  or,  if  some  rare  signs  of  it  did  escape 
him  they  were  never  natural  and  unmixed  with  royalty, 
not  even  in  tlicir  most  private  and  interior  moments.  Noth- 
ing was  left  for  Mon.seigneiir  but  the  station  of  son  and  suc- 
cessor, and  it  was  precisely  this  latter  (inality  which  kept  the 
king  on  his  guard  and  hinif^elf  under  the  yoke.  Ho  had  not 
the  merest  shadow  of  IhIIikmicc.  with  the  kini:.     Tt  wiis  even 


272  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,      [chap,  x, 

enough  for  him  to  show  a  liking  to  any  one  to  have  that 
person  feel  some  counterblow ;  and  the  king  was  so  anxious 
to  prove  that  his  son  had  no  power  that  he  himself  would 
do  nothing  for  those  who  were  attached  to  him  and  paid 
him  their  personal  court.  The  ministers  dared  not  approach 
Monseigneur,  who,  on  his  part,  never  committed  himself  to 
ask  anything  of  them ;  and  if  any  one  of  the  principal 
courtiers  stood  well  with  him,  his  father  discovered  the  fact 
and  treated  it  as  a  cabal;  consequently  Monseigneur,  when 
urged  to  interest  the  king  for  any  one,  would  frankly  reply 
that  it  was  the  surest  way  to  injure  them. 

Sometimes  monosyllables  of  bitter  complaint  on  this  point 
escaped  him  after  being  refused  by  the  king,  which  was 
always  done  curtly;  and  the  last  time  in  his  life  that  he 
went  to  Meudon,  whence  he  never  returned,  he  arrived  there 
so  outraged  by  the  refusal  of  a  mere  trifle  he  had  asked  for 
Casau  (who  told  me  this)  that  he  vowed  he  would  never 
expose  himself  again  for  any  one ;  and,  in  his  vexation,  he 
comforted  Casau  with  hopes  of  a  better  time  when  nature 
ordained  it;  which  for  him  to  say  was  a  sort  of  wonder. 
We  may  remark  in  passing  that  Monsieur  and  Monseigneur 
both  died  just  after  their  feelings  had  been  hurt  by  the 
king. 

The  full  share  that  Monseigneur  had  for  many  years  in 
the  secrets  of  State  never  had  the  slightest  influence  on 
public  affairs  ;  he  knew  them,  and  that  was  all.  This  barren 
result,  perhaps  also  his  want  of  intelligence,  made  him  keep 
out  of  such  matters  as  much  as  he  could.  He  was,  however, 
assiduous  at  the  councils  of  State  ;  he  had  the  same  entrance 
to  those  of  finance  and  despatches,  but  he  seldom  went  to 
them.  As  for  all  private  work  with  the  king,  there  was 
never  any  question  of  it  for  him,  and  except  on  the  occasions 
of  some  great  public   news   the   ministers  never  went  to 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  273 

inform  him  of  anything;  much  less  the  generals  of  the 
armies,  or  others  returning  from  distant  employments. 

It  has  been  said  that  he  had  an  extreme  dread  of  losing 
the  king.  There  is  no  doubt  that  he  showed  that  senti- 
Monseigneur's  meut ;  but  it  is  not  very  easy  to  reconcile  the 
private  Court.  ^^^^^i  of  it  with  what  has  now  been  told  of 
him.  It  is  certain  that  a  few  months  before  his  death,  the 
Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  having  gone  to  Meudon,  went  up 
to  his  private  sanctum  in  the  entresol,  followed  by  Mme.  de 
Nogaret,  where  they  found  Monseigneur  with  Mile.  Choin, 
Mme.  la  Duchesse,  and  the  two  Lislebonnes,  deeply  occupied 
at  a  table  on  which  lay  a  large  book  of  engravings  of  the 
coronation  of  the  kings.  Monseigneur  was  busily  consid- 
ering and  explaining  them  to  the  company,  and  receiving 
with  complacency  the  remarks  they  made  to  him,  such  as : 
"Then  he  is  the  one  who  will  put  on  your  spurs,  and  this 
one  gives  you  the  royal  mantle,  and  the  peers  put  the  crown 
on  your  head,"  and  so  forth;  the  scene  lasted  some  time. 
I  heard  this  two  days  later  from  Mme.  de  Nogaret,  who 
was  much  astonished ;  the  arrival  of  the  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne did  not  interrupt  this  singular  amusement,  which 
certainly  does  not  show  a  dread  of  the  king's  death  so  much 
as  a  desire  to  become  king  himself. 

He  never  liked  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  nor  did  he  ever 
bend  to  obtain  anything  by  her  influence.  He  went  to  see 
her  for  a  moment  on  his  return  from  the  few  campaigns  he 
had  made,  and  on  one  or  two  public  occasions ;  never  in 
y)rivatc.  Sometimes  he  entered  her  room  for  a  second  before 
supper  to  follow  the  king.  Her  own  behaviour  to  liini  was 
very  Ktiff,  and  she  made  him  feel  that  she  regnnlcd  him  as 
notliing.  In  common  with  Mile.  (!hoin,  hi.s  renl  conlidence 
was  in  Mile,  do  Lislebonnc,  and  nlso  ((hnnigh  Ihc  iiilimato 
union  of   the;  two  sisters)  Muio.  d'Espiuoy.     Nearly   every 

VOL.    II.  —  18 


274  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,      [ckap.  x. 

morning  he  went  to  take  chocolate  with  the  former.  This 
was  the  hour  for  secrets,  when  they  were  wholly  inaccessible 
to  every  one,  unless  to  Mme.  d'Espinoy.  Through  these 
sisters  came  his  friendship  with  Mme.  la  Duchesse,  and 
later  the  Duchesse  de  Berry  was  admitted  to  the  parvulo 
and  very  well  treated.  But  in  spite  of  this  ascendency  of 
the  two  Lislebonnes  over  Monseigneur,  it  is  nevertheless 
true  that  he  did  not  espouse  all  their  fancies,  either  be- 
cause of  the  Choin,  who,  while  she  treated  them  carefully, 
knew  them  well  and  did  not  trust  them  (so  Bignon  told 
me),  or  because  of  Mme.  la  Duchesse,  who  assuredly  did 
not  trust  them  either,  and  was  by  no  means  in  love  with 
their  pretensions. 

From  what  has  now  been  told  of  Monseigneur's  character 
and  the  nature  of  his  mind  and  his  discernment,  it  will 
readily  be  seen  that  those  who  had  engulfed  him,  and  who 
had  every  means  to  infatuate  him  as  they  pleased,  found 
no  trouble  in  estranging  him  from  the  Due  de  Bourgogne, 
and  in  alienating  the  father  from  the  son,  more  and  more 
continually.  We  can  imagine,  therefore,  what  would  have 
been  the  reign  of  such  a  prince  in  such  hands.  The 
estrangement  between  the  two  princes  was  visible  to  the 
whole  Court.  Moreover,  the  same  cabal  worked  ardently, 
perseveringly,  and  boldly  to  injure  the  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne with  Monseigneur.  At  the  same  time  it  was  not 
less  earnest  in  fostering  the  friendship  which  conformity 
of  morals  and  tastes  had  produced  in  his  heart  for  the  Due 
de  Berry,  from  whom  the  cabal  had  nothing  to  fear  in  the 
future.  For  this  reason  they  had  made  Monseigneur 
welcome  the  Duchesse  de  Berry  and  admit  her  at  once,  with- 
out her  ever  asking  it,  to  the  parvulo  sanctuary.  They  in- 
tended thus  to  remove  suspicion  of  a  design  to  alienate  all 
the  sons  of  the  house,  and  at  the  same  time  to  sow  dissen- 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUC  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  275 

sion  and  jealousy  between  the  two  brothers,  united  as  they 
were.  One  half  of  this  scheme  succeeded  by  the  most  un- 
expected assistance,  but  the  other,  and  the  chief  half,  failed  ; 
for  the  intimate  union  of  the  brothers  never  could  and  never 
did  admit  of  the  slightest  change,  no  matter  what  machina- 
tions, even  domestic,  were  employed.  Mme.  la  Duchesse  de 
Berry  proved  to  be  as  wicked  as  they,  and  as  full  of  views. 
The  Due  d'Orldans  often  called  his  wife  Mme.  Lucifer ;  at 
which  she  smiled  complacently.  He  was  right;  she  would 
have  been  a  prodigy  of  pride  if  she  had  never  given  birth 
to  a  daughter,  but  that  daughter  surpassed  her  by  a  great 
deal.  This  is  not  the  time  to  make  a  portrait  of  either  of 
them ;  I  shall  content  myself  now,  as  to  the  Duchesse  de 
Berry,  with  a  very  few  words  that  are  necessary  to  explain 
the  matter  in  hand. 

She  was  a  marvel  of  intelligence,  pride,  ingratitude,  and 
folly,  also  of  debauchery  and  waywardness.     Scarcely  was 
she  married  a  week  before  she  began  to  de- 
projects  of  the        velop  at  all  those  points,  which  the  supreme 
Duchesse  de  dcccit  that  was  in   her  (and    on    which   she 

Berry.  ^ 

piqued  herself  as  an  excellent  talent)  had  con- 
cealed until  the  time  came  when  her  temperament  was  set 
free  and  dominated  her.  Soon  it  was  ea'^jy  to  perceive  her 
anger  at  being  born  of  a  bastard  mother ;  her  hatred  of  that 
mother's  control,  although  it  was  employed  with  infmite 
caution ;  her  contempt  for  the  weakness  of  her  father  and 
her  confidence  in  the  empire  she  had  over  him  ;  the  aversion 
she  conceived  for  all  who  had  taken  part  in  her  marriage, 
especially  the  Duchesse  do  Bourgogno,  because  she  was  in- 
censed at  the  thought  that  she  owed  an  obligation  to  any 
one,  —  a  feeling  she  had  Uie  folly  not  only  to  avow  but  to 
boast  of.  CJonsequently  she  was  not  slow  to  act.  Boliold 
how  we  work   in  LIiIh  vvmld   willi  our  hisuls  in  ii  sack  I  so 


276  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  x. 

that  prudence  and  human  sagacity  are  confounded  in  the 
very  success  of  their  most  reasonable  desires,  which  turns 
out  afterwards  to  be  detestable !  All  the  efforts  brought  to 
bear  for  this  marriage  had  two  principal  objects :  one  to  pre- 
vent that  to  Mile,  de  Bourbon,  for  many  essential  reasons 
already  stated;  the  other  to  complete  the  happy,  desirable, 
and  well-cemented  union  between  the  two  brothers  and 
the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  which  made  the  solid  happiness 
and  grandeur  of  the  State,  the  peace  and  felicity  of  the 
royal  family,  the  joy  and  tranquillity  of  the  Court,  and  put, 
as  far  as  it  was  possible,  a  check  to  the  dangers  to  be  feared 
from  the  reign  of  Monseigneur.  Perhaps  the  marriage  to 
Mile,  de  Bourbon  might  never  have  taken  place  ;  at  any  rate 
we  had  substituted  for  her  a  fury,  who  dreamed  only  of 
destroying  all  who  had  estabhshed  her,  of  setting  the 
brothers  at  variance,  of  destroying  her  benefactress  for  the 
very  reason  that  she  was  that,  of  making  common  cause 
with  enemies  because  they  were  those  of  the  Due  and 
Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  of  governing  Monseigneur,  dauphin 
and  king,  through  persons  who  hated  her  father  and  mother, 
who  were  working  ceaselessly  for  the  annihilation  of  the 
Due  and  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne ;  all  of  whom  meant  to 
govern  Monseigneur  singly  when  at  last  he  was  master,  and 
were  surely  not  likely  to  a,bandon  to  the  Duchesse  de  Berry 
the  fruit  of  their  long  and  steady  toil,  of  the  sweat  of  their 
brow  and  of  what  might  be  called  their  crimes,  namely,  the 
helm  by  which  to  govern  him  without  a  rival  Such,  how- 
ever, was  the  wise,  easy,  and  honest  idea  which  the  Duchesse 
de  Berry  took  into  her  head  as  soon  as  she  was  married. 

This  project  demanded,  as  we  have  said,  discord  between 
the  two  brothers.  To  bring  this  about,  it  was  necessary  to 
begin  by  estranging  the  brother-in-law  from  the  sister-in-law. 
This  was  extremely  difficult.     Everything  about  the   Due 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  277 

de  Berry  was  opposed  to  it,  —  reason,  friendship,  kindness, 
habit,  pleasures,  advice,  and  support  with  the  king  and  Mme. 
de  Maintenon.  But  the  Due  de  Berry  was  upright,  truthful, 
kind,  incapable  of  suspecting  deceit  or  artifice ;  he  had  but 
little  mind,  and  though  living  in  the  midst  of  the  world,  but 
little  knowledge  of  it ;  and,  finally,  he  was  madly  in  love 
with  his  wife,  and  in  perpetual  admiration  of  her  mind  and 
her  clever  sayings.  She  succeeded,  therefore,  little  by  httle, 
in  estranging  him  from  the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne.  This 
was  where  she  was  when  Monseigneur  died ;  hence  that 
rage  of  sorrow,  which  no  one  who  did  not  know  the  secret 
truth  could  understand.  All  of  a  sudden  she  saw  her  plans 
go  up  in  smoke,  and  she  herself  reduced  to  a  rank  below  the 
princess  she  had  repaid  with  the  blackest  and  most  gratui- 
tous ingratitude ;  one,  too,  who  made  the  delight  of  the  king 
and  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  and  was  now  to  reign  without  a 
rival  in  advance  of  the  actual  fact.  She  saw  the  dispropor- 
tion between  the  brothers  brought  about  by  the  rank  of 
dauphin,  and  the  cabal,  to  which  she  had  sacrificed  her  soul, 
lost  for  the  future,  and  in  the  present  worse  than  useless  to 
her. 

From  the  foregoing  long  and  minute  detail  of  Monsei- 
gneur's  character  it  appears  that  he  was  equally  without  vice 
Portrait  in  brief  ^^^  virtuc,  without  ideas  or  knowledge,  and  radi- 
of Monseigneur.  eally  incapable  of  acquiring  any;  very  lazy, 
without  imagination  or  production,  without  taste,  without 
choice,  without  discernment ;  born  for  the  ennui  he  commu- 
nicated to  those  about  him,  and  to  be  a  rolling  ball  impelled 
as  it  chanced  })y  the  will  of  others  ;  obstinate  and  petty  in 
all  things  to  excess  ;  incredibly  easy  to  prejudice ;  believ- 
ing whatever  he  saw ;  delivered  over  to  dangerous  hands  ; 
incii,|»iihlc,  (»r  getting  oul.  of  tlicni  or  (»f  perceiving  what 
llic.y   wen;;  iibsufbed  in    liis   i'nt    and  his  (hihiess ;   so   that 


278  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  x. 

without   any  wish    whatever  to  do  wrong,  he  would  have 
been  a  most  pernicious  king. 

The  purples  [or  petechice],  added  to  the  small-pox  of  which 

Mouseigneur  died  and  the  rapid  decomposition  which  took 

place,  made  it  equally  useless  and  dangerous  to 

His  obsequies. 

open  the  body.  He  was  wrapped  in  his  shroud, 
some  say  by  the  Gray  Sisters,  others  by  the  tloor-rubbers, 
others  by  the  men  who  brought  the  coffin.  An  old  parish 
pall  was  thrown  over  his  bier,  no  one  remaining  beside  it 
except  La  Valli^re,  a  few  subalterns,  and  the  capuchins  of 
Meudon,  who  had  reheved  each  other  in  praying  God  beside 
the  body,  with  no  paraphernalia  and  no  funeral  torches  other 
than  a  few  ta,pers. 

He  died  about  midnight  between  the  Tuesday  and  Wednes- 
day. Thursday  he  was  carried  to  Saint-Denis  in  one  of  the 
king's  carriages,  about  which  there  was  no  mourning;  the 
front  glass  was  taken  out  to  allow  one  end  of  the  coffin 
to  pass  through.  The  vicar  of  Meudon  and  Monseigneur's 
chaplain  on  duty  got  into  it.  Another  of  the  king's  car- 
riages, also  without  mourning,  followed  ;  on  the  back  seat  of 
which  sat  the  Due  de  la  Trdmoille,  first  gentleman  of  the 
bedchamber,  not  on  duty,  and  M.  de  Metz,  first  almoner ;  on 
the  front  seat  was  Dreux,  master  of  ceremonies,  and  the 
Abb^  de  Brancas ;  the  body-guard,  the  footmen,  and  twenty- 
four  of  the  king's  pages  bearing  torches  made  up  this  very 
simple  procession,  which  left  Meudon  between  six  and  seven 
in  the  evening,  passed  over  the  pont  de  Sfevres,  crossed  the 
Bois  de  Boulogne,  and  going  by  the  plain  of  Saint-Ouen 
reached  Saint  Denis,  where  the  body  was  immediately  lowered 
into  the  royal  vault  without  any  sort  of  ceremony  whatever. 

Such  was  the  end  of  a  prince  who  passed  nearly  fifty 
years  in  causing  others  to  make  plans,  while  he,  on  the  steps 
of  the  throne,  led  a  private,  not  to  say  obscure  life ;  so  much 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  279 

SO  that  notliiug  of  mark  remains  of  him  except  the  property 
of  Meudon,  which  he  greatly  embeUishecl.  Hunter  without 
pleasure,  almost  a  voluptuary,  yet  without  a  taste  for  it, 
heavy  player  to  win,  but,  after  he  took  to  spending  his  money 
on  building,  whistling  to  himself  in  a  corner  of  the  salon 
at  Marly,  tapping  Ms  snufifbox,  turning  his  large  eyes  from 
one  to  another  in  the  room  but  looking  at  none;  without 
conversation,  without  amusement,  I  may  say  without  feeling, 
without  thought ;  yet  always,  through  the  grandeur  of  his 
station,  the  culminating  point,  the  soul,  the  life  of  the 
strangest  cabal,  the  most  terrible,  the  deepest,  the  most 
united,  in  spite  of  its  subdivisions,  that  had  ever  arisen 
since  the  peace  of  the  Pyrenees  put  an  end  to  the  troubles 
of  the  minority  of  the  king.  I  have  dwelt  rather  long 
upon  a  prince  who  is  scarcely  definable,  for  he  cannot  be 
made  known  except  through  details  ;  but  to  report  them  all 
would  be  endless.  The  matter,  however,  is  curious  enoujrh 
to  allow  of  my  extending  myself  on  a  dauphin  so  little 
known,  who  never  was  anything  nor  of  anything  during  his 
long,  vain  waiting  for  the  crown,  and  in  whom  broke,  at 
last,  the  rope  that  had  supported  so  many  hopes  and  fears 
and  projects. 

As  for  the  king,  never  man  so  tender  to  tears,  nor  so 
difficult  to  afflict,  nor  so  quick  to  restore  to  his  perfectly 
The  king's  sort  uormal  coudition.  He  must  have  been  greatly 
of  grief.  touched  by  the  deatli   of  a  son  who  at  fifty 

years  of  age  had  never  been  more  than  six  in  his  estimation. 
Tired  by  so  sad  a  night  he  stayed  late  in  bed  the  next  morn- 
ing. The  Duchessc  do  Bourgogne,  arriving  from  Versailles, 
awaited  his  waking  with  Mnie.  de  Maintcnon,  and  both 
of  them  wont  tf)  his  room  and  saw  him  in  b(!d  as  soon  ns 
ho  woke.  He  rose  immediately  after.  As  soon  as  lio  was 
in  liis  cabinet  ho  sunt  for  the  Due  do  liouuvilliors  and  the 


280  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  x. 

chancellor,  took  them  to  the  embrasure  of  a  window  and 
shed  a  few  tears  ;  after  which  he  arranged  with  them  that 
the  name,  rank,  and  honours  of  the  dauphin  should  pass  at 
once  to  the  Due  de  Bourgogne  and  to  his  wife,  whom  I  shall 
henceforth  name  in  no  other  way.  He  then  decided  what- 
ever related  to  the  body  of  Monseigneur,  as  I  have  already 
reported  ;  received  liis  keys  and  casket  which  Du  Mont  took 
to  him ;  gave  orders  about  the  small  number  of  personal 
servants  belonging  to  Monseigneur ;  ordered  the  chancellor 
to  divide  the  slight  inheritance  he  left  between  his  three 
sons,  descending  to  details  as  to  the  reduction  of  the  wolf- 
hunting  equipment  to  its  original  footing.  He  put  off  until 
the  following  Sunday  the  admission  to  Marly  of  those  who 
were  usually  there,  and  on  Thursday  he  amused  himself 
with  looking  over  the  lists  for  admissions  to  Marly  on  the 
appointed  day. 

He  ordered  d'Antin  to  go  to  Mile.  Choin  to  assure  her  of 
his  protection  and  to  take  her  a  pension  of  twelve  thousand 
Mile  Choin-  the  f^ancs.  She  had  neither  asked  for  it  nor  had 
wisdom  of  her       gj^e  caused  her  name  to  be  mentioned  to  him. 

conduct  after 

Monseigneur's  M.  Ic  Dauphiu  and  Mme.  la  Dauphine  had 
'^^^^^'  already  sent  her  all  sorts  of  friendly  messages, 

and  both  of  them  did  her  the  honour  to  write  to  her.  Her 
grief  was  much  less  long  and  less  severe  than  might  have 
been  expected.  This  surprised  people  much,  and  made  them 
think  she  had  taken  less  part  in  things  than  was  always  sup- 
posed. But  her  life  had  been  infinitely  hampered.  She  had 
been  upon  her  guard  with  almost  every  one  she  saw ;  she  had 
no  establishment,  no  equipage,  five  or  six  servants  were  all 
her  train  ;  she  never  appeared  in  any  public  place,  and  if 
she  went  anywhere  at  all  it  was  only  into  the  houses  of  a 
few  persons  of  her  own  connection  ;  her  foot  was  forever  in 
the  stirrup,  not  only  for  the  regular  trips  to  Meudon,  but 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUC  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  281 

for  the  dinners  Monseigneur  took  there  without  remaining 
for  the  night. 

A  noble  trait  of  this  singular  maid  or  wife  should  not  be 
forgotten.  Monseigneur,  on  the  point  of  going  to  command 
the  army  in  Flanders  after  the  campaign  of  Lille  (where 
however  he  did  not  go),  made  a  will,  and  in  this  will  he  gave 
a  very  considerable  property  to  Mile.  Choin.  He  told  her  of 
it,  and  showed  her  a  sealed  letter  addressed  to  her  making 
mention  of  it,  which  letter  was  to  be  given  to  her  in  case  of 
mishap  to  him.  She  was  extremely  touched,  as  can  readily 
be  supposed,  at  this  mark  of  his  affection  and  foresight ;  but 
she  had  no  peace  until  she  had  persuaded  him  to  put  both 
the  will  and  the  letter  into  the  fire  before  her  own  eyes ;  she 
told  him  that  if  she  had  the  misfortune  to  survive  him,  an 
income  of  a  thousand  crowns  which  she  had  saved  was  more 
than  enough  for  her  wants.  After  this,  it  is  surprising  that 
no  provision  for  her  was  found  among  his  papers. 

We  have  seen  the  situation  of  the  Duchesse  de  Berry 
when  Monseigneur  died,  and  the  reason  of  the  extreme  de- 
The  Duchesse  de  spair  iuto  which  tliis  loss  had  plunged  her. 
fdglsherstr'Inge  ^^  ^lic  cxccss  of  her  grief  shc  had  the  folly,  to 
projects.  speak    mildly,   to   reveal    to  Mrae.   de   Saint- 

Simon  the  scheme  she  had  imagined  and  on  which  she  was 
proceeding  with  the  terrible  cabal  around  Monseigneur.  In 
her  amazement  at  hearing  of  such  astounding  projects,  Mrae. 
d(;  Saint-Simon  tried  to  make  her  comprehend  the  want  of 
foundation,  not  to  say  the  absurdity,  the  horror,  the  folly,  of 
such  a  scheme,  and  also  to  induce  her  to  seize  the  present 
touching  moment  to  draw  nearer  to  a  sister-in-law  who  was 
kind,  gcnllo,  oisy  U)  live;  with,  who  had  urged  and  promoted 
her  marriage,  and  who,  notwithHtanding  what  had  jjassed.was 
HO  ready  to  make  matterH  up  with  friendly  ease  of  nianncr,  if 
[xjople  knew  )iow  to  tak(;  Iw.v.      Hut  it  was  lliis  nei'cs.Hity  of 


282  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.       [chap.  x. 

doing  so,  and  doing  it  properly,  which  soured  a  heart  con- 
scious of  the  wrong  done  to  one  of  whom  she  now  had  need 
for  the  solid  benefits  and  pleasures  of  life.  This  necessity- 
revolted  her  pride  and  roused  an  extreme  repugnance  to 
bend  even  in  appearance.  Accustomed  to  equal  rank,  the 
very  name  and  title  of  dauphine,  which  was  about  to  make 
so  much  difference  between  them,  increased  her  despair  and 
her  ahenation  (to  use  too  gentle  a  term),  and  made  her  feel 
that  she  could  never  endure  the  new  position  in  which  she 
found  herself.  After  many  groans  and  tears  and  outbursts, 
urged  by  reasons  to  which  there  was  no  reply,  still  more  by 
the  needs  she  felt,  in  spite  of  herself  to  their  fullest  extent, 
she  promised  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  to  go  the  next  day, 
Thursday,  to  the  new  dauphine  and  ask  for  an  audience  in 
her  cabinet,  and  do  all  she  could  to  be  reconciled  with  her. 

This  Thursday  was  the  day  on  which  Monseigneur  was 
taken  to  Saint-Denis,  and  with  him  all  the  fine  projects  of 
the  Duchesse  de  Berry.  She  kept  her  word  and  fulfilled  it 
very  well.  Her  amiable  sister-in-law  smoothed  her  way, 
and  was  the  first  to  make  an  advance.  By  what  they  both 
said  separately  of  this  tete-U-tete,  Mme.  la  Dauphine  behaved 
and  spoke  as  if  it  were  she  who  had  offended  the  Duchesse 
de  Berry,  and  as  if  all  the  advances  were  expected  of  her ; 
the  Duchesse  de  Berry  also  surpassed  herself.  The  interview 
lasted  more  than  an  hour.  They  came  out  of  the  cabinet 
tocrether  with  a  natural  air  of  mutual  satisfaction,  which  was 
as  gladdening  to  honest  people  as  it  was  displeasing  to  those 
who  hoped  only  in  quarrels  and  disorder.  The  Due  and 
Duchesse  d'Orl^ans  were  joyful  at  the  reconciliation,  and 
the  Due  de  Berry  was  so  pleased  that  his  sorrow  was  greatly 
softened.  He  loved  his  brother  tenderly,  and  he  still  loved 
Mme.  la  Dauphine ;  it  had  been  a  sore  constraint  to  him  to 
treat  her  as  his  wife  exacted.     He  seized  this  occasion,  there- 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  283 

fore,  with  all  his  heart  and  with  genuine  goodness,  and  when 
Mme.  la  Dauphine  went  after  dinner  to  see  them,  on  the 
very  day  of  the  reconciliation,  which  took  place  in  the  morn- 
ing, she  took  the  Due  de  Berry  apart  and  they  wept  together 
from  tenderness.  What  had  passed  in  the  morning  was  con- 
firmed on  her  part  with  the  grace  so  natural  to  her ;  but  on 
that  of  the  Duchesse  de  Berry  there  came  but  too  soon  a 
stumbling-block. 

The  king,  in  the  very  first  days  of  his  solitude,  let  it  be 

known  through  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers  that  he  should  not 

willingly   see   the  new  dauphin  making   trips 

Submission  and 

moderation  of  to  Meudon.  This  was  enough  for  the  prince 
aup  in.  ^^  declare  that  he  would  never  set  foot  there, 
or  ever  leave  the  places  where  the  king  might  be ;  and,  in 
fact,  he  never  did  make  a  single  excursion.  The  king 
wished  to  give  him  the  fifty  thousand  francs  a  month  which 
Monseigneur  had  had,  but  M.  le  Dauphin  thanked  him  and 
declined  them.  He  had  never  had  but  six  thousand  francs 
a  month ;  he  was  content  to  have  that  sum  doubled  and 
wished  no  more.  This  disinterestedness  pleased  the  public 
greatly.  M.  le  Dauphin  would  have  nothing  whatever  for 
himself  personally,  and  persisted  in  remaining  exactly  as  he 
had  been  during  Monseigneur's  life.  These  portents  of  a  wise 
and  prudent  reign  made  many  conceive  great  hopes  of  it. 

I  have  explained  already  the  very  modern  and  sly  intro- 
duction among  the  princes  of  the  blood,  assisted  by  their 
principal  valets,  of  calling  themselves  Moiueigneur,  which 
title,  ill  coninion  with  all  their  other  honours,  ranks,  and 
distinctions,  was  very  soon  applied  to  the  bastards.  Nothing 
liad  more  disy)leaHed  the  Due  do  Bourgognc,  who  until  now 
had  always  been  called  Monsieur^  and  was  only  Monacvjncur 
from  this  nianiii,  U)Y  so  calling  tliciii  all.  As  soon  as  ho 
became  dauyjhin  he  spoke  to  tlic.  king  uhdut  it  through  Mme. 


284  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  x. 

la  Dauphine  ;  and  before  going  to  Marly  he  announced  that 
he  would  not  be  named  Monseigneur  like  his  father,  but  M. 
le  Dauphin,  nor,  when  spoken  to  personally,  in  any  other 
way  than  Monsieur.  He  was  very  careful  about  this,  and 
corrected  all  those  who,  in  the  beginning,  did  otherwise. 

Sunday,  April  18,  ended  the  retirement  of  the  king.  The 
royal  family  and  the  elect  among  those  applying  for  Marly, 
repeopled  that  place  which  had  been  for  four  days  solitary. 
The  two  sons  of  France  and  their  wives  arrived  together 
after  receiving  the  benediction  of  the  Holy  Sacrament  at 
Versailles.  They  aU  four  entered  Mme.  de  Maintenon's 
apartment  to  see  the  king,  who  embraced  them.  The  inter- 
view lasted  only  a  moment;  the  princes  then  went  to  the 
gardens  to  take  the  air ;  the  king  supped  wilh  the  ladies, 
and  the  usual  life  was  resumed,  with  the  exception  of  cards. 
The  Court  went  into  mourning  on  this  day  for  one  year,  as 
for  a  father.  The  king  announced  that  for  three  months  he 
should  not  leave  Marly,  on  account  of  the  bad  air  at  Ver- 
sailles, and  also  that  he  would  receive  at  Marly  on  the 
following  day  the  silent  condolences  of  all,  in  mourning 
cloaks  and  mantles,  whether  they  were  persons  abeady  at 
Marly  or  others  coming  from  Paris. 

On  that  day,  Monday,  April  19,  the  king  ordered  the 
doors  of  all  his  cabinets,  front  and  back,  to  be  opened  at  half- 
Mamies  and  past  two  in  the  afternoon.  Persons  entered 
cloaks  at  Marly,  ^j^po^-ig]^  j^jg  chamber.  He  was  in  his  ordinary 
clothes,  his  hat  under  his  arm,  standing  up  and  resting  his 
right  hand  on  the  table  in  his  cabinet  which  was  nearest 
to  the  door  of  his  chamber.  M.  le  Dauphin  and  Mme.  la 
Dauphine,  the  Due  and  Duchesse  de  Berry,  Madame,  the  Due 
and  Duchesse  d'Orlt^ans,  Mme.  la  Grande-Duchesse,  Mme.  la 
Princesse,  Mme.  la  Duchesse,  her  two  sons  and  her  two 
daughters,  M.  du  Maine,  and  the  Comte  de  Toulouse  ranged 


1711]  MEMOIES  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  285 

themselves  in  a  great  semicircle  below  the  king  as  they 
entered,  wearing  cloaks  and  mantles,  except  the  widows, 
who  wore  only  little  veils.  All  Paris,  in  funeral  garments, 
as  well  as  all  Marly,  filled  the  salons  and  the  king's  chamber. 
Twelve  or  fifteen  duchesses  filed  in  first ;  then  the  titled  and 
the  non-titled  ladies,  as  they  happened  to  come,  and  the 
foreign  princesses,  who,  contrary  to  their  usual  vigilance,  were 
the  last  to  arrive.  After  the  ladies,  the  Archbishop  of 
Rheims,  followed  by  some  fifteen  dukes  in  order  of  pre- 
cedence; lastly  all  the  men,  titled  and  non-titled,  foreign 
princes,  and  prelates,  mingled  as  they  chanced  to  come 
Four  or  five  heads  or  sons  of  the  house  of  Rohan  had  put 
themselves  all  together  into  the  file  of  precedence  towards 
the  middle  of  the  march ;  certain  persons  of  quality  per- 
ceiving this  assumption  headed  them  off,  which  caused  the 
line  to  be  mingled  as  it  entered  the  cabinet. 

All  went  straight  to  the  king,  one  after  another,  and  at 
some  distance  from  him  made  a  profound  bow,  which  he 
returned  very  markedly  to  each  titled  person,  man  and 
woman,  and  not  at  all  to  the  rest.  This  single  bow  made, 
all  persons  went  slowly  to  the  other  door  of  the  cabinet, 
from  which  they  issued  through  the  little  salon  of  the  chapel. 
The  mantle  and  cloak  are  distinctions  that  rightly  belong 
only  to  persons  of  a  certain  quality ;  but,  like  so  many  other 
distinctions,  they  are  now  in  common  use,  so  that  many 
persons  passed  before  the  king  whom  neither  he  nor  any  of 
the  semicircle  knew,  and  not  even  the  usual  courtiers  could 
make  out  who  they  were.  Among  them  were  several  of  the 
legal  robe,  which  seemed  singular  enough.  It  was  impossible 
that  such  a  variety  of  faces  and  the  quoerness  of  the  accou- 
trement on  many  persons  little  fitted  to  wear  it,  should  not 
iiave  produced  some  ridiculous  objects  which  upset  the  most 
rigid   gravity  ;  even  the  king  had   dillirulty  in  restraining 


286  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.      [chap.x 

himself,  and  once  he  succumbed,  with  everybody  present, 
on  the  passage  of  a  flat-foot,  I  don't  know  who,  abandoned  by 
a  part  of  his  equipment. 

I  lost  about  this  time  a  friend  whom  I  greatly  regretted. 
This  was  the  Duchesse  de  Yilleroy,  whom  I  have  already 
Death  and  mentioned  more  than  once.     She  was  an  up- 

characterofthe     j,jjj|^^   natural,  frank,  safe,  and  secret  woman, 

Duchesse  de  o      '  '  '  '  ' 

Yilleroy.  Tfyj^o  without  mind  had  been  able  to  make  a 

figure  at  Court,  and  to  master  both  husband  and  father-in- 
law.  She  was  lofty  on  all  points,  especially  on  dignity,  ex- 
acting due  justice  to  her  own  birth,  and  even  to  that  of  her 
husband,  so  strictly  and  publicly  that  she  was  often  embar- 
rassing. She  was  very  moody,  though  I,  in  all  that  con- 
cerned myself,  never  perceived  it.  She  was  high-tempered, 
and  often  rude  and  harsh ;  she  got  that  from  her  own  family. 
For  a  long  time  she  had  been  very  close  to  the  Duchesse 
d'Orl^ans,  and  in  the  utmost  confidence  with  Mme.  la 
Dauphine,  both  of  whom  loved  her  and  also  feared  her. 
She  had  friends  of  both  sexes  and  deserved  them.  She  was 
a  good,  ardent,  and  sure  friend  ;  and  it  cost  her  little  to  make 
her  way  ;  she  became  a  personage,  and  one  before  long  to  be 
reckoned  with.  Her  very  singular  face  was  extremely  ugly 
below,  especially  when  she  laughed,  but  was  charming  above. 
When  in  full  dress,  grave  and  tall  as  she  was  (though  her  hips 
and  shoulders  were  too  high),  no  one  had  so  grand  an  air, 
or  adorned  as  she  did  a  fete  or  ball,  where,  in  truth,  there 
was  no  beauty  that  she  did  not  efface.  She  danced  charm- 
ingly. A  few  months  before  her  death,  being  then  in  perfect 
health,  she  told  ^Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  that  she  was  too 
happy  ;  that  wherever  she  turned,  her  happiness  was  perfect, 
and  it  made  her  afraid  and  sure  that  a  state  so  blissful  could 
not  last;  some  catastrophe,  impossible  to  foresee,  must 
happen,  or  else  she  should  soon  die.     The  last  happened. 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  287 

Her  husband  was  serving  as  captain  of  the  guards  for 
Mardchal  de  Boufllers,  detained  in  Paris  by  the  death  of 
his  son.  She  dreaded  the  small-pox  extremely,  having  never 
had  it.  In  spite  of  that  fear  she  asked  the  Duchesse  de 
Bourgogue  to  take  her  to  Marly  during  the  first  days  of  the 
king's  solitude,  on  pretence  of  seeing  her  husband.  Nothing 
could  dissuade  her  from  it,  so  completely  do  small  distinc- 
tions turn  all  heads  at  a  Court.  She  went  in  mortal  fear, 
fell  ill  immediately,  and  died  at  Versailles.  The  Abbo  de 
Louvois  and  the  Due  de  A^illeroy  shut  themselves  up  with 
her.  The  first  was  inconsolable ;  the  latter  not  for  very 
long ;  he  was  soon  enjoying  the  pleasure  of  feeling  himself 
his  own  master.  He  was  not  born  to  be  so,  however ;  his 
father,  the  mardchal,  soon  put  him  again  under  the  yoke. 

Never  was  a  change  greater  or  more  marked  than  that 
occasioned  by  the  death  of  Monseigneur.  Still  distant  from 
Great  change  ^hc  tlironc  tlirougli  the  souud  health  of  the 
at  Court  on  the      l^ing   without  the   sliglitcst   influence,  and  in 

death  of  Men-  _     &'  *=  ' 

seigneur.  himself   of   uo   accouut,   he   had  become  the 

centre  of  the  hopes  and  fears  of  all,  through  the  ability  of 
a  formidable  cabal  to  form  itself,  strengthen  itself,  and 
obtain  complete  possession  of  him,  without  arousing  the 
jealousy  of  the  king,  before  whom  all  trembled,  because  the 
latter's  solicitude  did  not  extend  beyond  his  own  life. 

We  can  easily  imagine  the  consternation  and  the  despair 
of  that  powerful  cabal,  so  well  organized,  and  led  by  its 
audicity  to  the  attempts  I  have  related.  Though  the  heir 
to  the  crown,  whom  it  had  nearly  borne  to  earth,  had  been 
able  to  uplift  himself,  though  its  chief  actor  in  that  in- 
credible attempt  had  been  disgraced  and  removed  from 
Court,  the  c:nh\\  li(;ld  (inn;  il,  governed  Monseigneur,  it  did 
not  fear  that  ho  could  ever  csc;ipe  it,  it  iilienated  him  nioro 
and  more  from  his  son  and  his  son's  wife,   was  certain  of 


288  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.      [chap,  x, 

rising  to  the  throne  with  him  and,  during  his  reign,  of 
crushing  down  the  heir  to  the  crown.  God  breathes  upon 
designs ;  in  a  moment  he  overthrows  them ;  he  subjected 
these,  without  hope,  to  him  for  whose  ruin  they  had  done 
all  and  forgotten  nothing.  What  fury  in  those  hearts !  but 
also,  what  dispersion ! 

Vendome  shuddered  in  Spain,  where  he  had  gone  merely 
to  pass  the  time.  He  now  resolved  to  set  up  his  tabernacle 
in  that  country  and  renounce  France.  But  the  dauphia 
and  the  king  of  Spain,  had  always  tenderly  loved  each  other ; 
their  separation  had  made  no  change  in  their  feelings.  The 
Queen  of  Spain,  who  was  all-powerful,  was  the  sister  of  the 
dauphine  and  in  the  closest  union  with  her.  His  sole 
remaining  resource  was  to  ally  himself  as  closely  as  he 
could  to  the  Princesse  des  Ursins  and  become  her  courtier. 
We  shall  see  before  long  the  consequences. 

Mile,  de  Lislebonne,  fully  conscious  of  her  profound 
personal  fall,  was  not  one  who  could  bring  herself,  proud 
j^ijg^g  as  she   was,  to   creep   on   sufferance   about  a 

Lislebonne.  Court  whcre  shc  had  reigned   so   long.     Her 

uncle  and  she  took  the  course  of  going  to  pass  the  summer 
in  Lorraine,  in  order  to  get  away  from  these  first  days  of 
trouble  and  to  form  for  themselves  some  other  plan  of  life. 
Fortune  favoured  the  witch.  Small-pox  removed  at  this 
time  several  of  M.  de  Lorraine's  children,  among  them  a 
daughter  about  seven  or  eight  years  of  age,  whom  he  had 
lately  caused  to  be  elected  abbess  of  Eemiremont,  on  the 
death  of  Mme.  de  Salni.  Such  an  establishment  seemed 
both  to  uncle  and  niece  a  plank  in  shipwreck,  a  noble  and 
lionourable  position  for  an  old  maid,  a  dignified  and  uncon- 
strained retreat,  a  sort  of  country  house  where  she  could  go 
when  she  pleased  without  the  necessity  of  constant  resi- 
dence, or  complete   abdication  of   the  Court   and  Paris ;  a 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  289 

comfortable  retreat  with  forty  thousand  francs  a  year  for 
one  who  had  Httle  and  was  now  deprived  of  the  carriages 
of  Monseigneur  and  all  the  other  conveniences  obtained 
from  him.  She  had  but  the  trouble  of  wishing  for  this 
position ;  no  sooner  had  they  arrived  in  Lorraine  than  her 
election  followed.  She  took  the  name  of  Mme.  de  Eemire- 
mont,  under  which  I  shall  speak  in  the  little  future  men- 
tion that  I  make  of  her. 

This  affair  was  done  so  abruptly,  that  I  arrived  in  the 
salon  after  the  king's  supper  on  the  day  his  permission  was 
given,  without  having  heard  of  it.  I  was  much  surprised 
to  see  Mme.  la  Dauphine,  with  whom  I  had  no  familiarity, 
come  up  to  me  laughing,  and  with  five  or  six  of  her  ladies 
surround  me,  press  me  into  a  corner,  and  tell  me  to  guess 
the  name  of  the  Abbess  of  Eemiremont.  I  continued  to 
step  backward,  and  the  laughter  increased  at  my  surprise 
at  a  question  which  seemed  to  me  so  out  of  my  compass 
that  I  could  think  of  no  person  to  name.  The  princess  told 
me  it  was  Mile,  de  Lislebonne  and  asked  what  I  said  to 
that.  "  What  I  say  to  that,  madame  ? "  I  replied,  laughing 
myself ;  "  I  say  that  I.  am  delighted  if  it  delivers  us  from 
her  here,  and  on  that  condition  I  wish  there  was  another 
such  position  for  her  sister."  "  I  thought  so,"  returned  the 
princess,  and  went  off  laughing  with  all  her  heart. 

Mme.  la  Duchesse  was  at  first  engulfed  in  sorrow.  Fallen 
from  her  highest  hopes,  and  from  a  brilliant  life  always 
Mme.  la  agreeably  occupied,   which   put   the  Court  at 

Duchesse.  Y\er  feet,  on  ill-terms  with  Mme.  de  Maintenon, 

alienated  without  hope  of  return  from  Mme.  la  Dauphine, 
at  open  variance  with  M.  du  Maine,  equally  so  with  the 
Duchesse  d'Orldans,  cngnged  in  suits  against  her  sistcrs-in' 
law,  with  no  one  on  wlioin  to  rely,  lier  son  still  young,  her 
daugliters  leaving  her,  she  foujid  Iku-hcU'  mducfd  to  ro- 
voi..  n. —  H» 


290  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  x. 

gretting  M.  le  Prince  and  M.  le  Due,  whose  deaths  at  the 
time  had  comforted  her. 

It  was  then  that  the  cherished  image  of  the  Prince  de 
Conti  presented  itself  ceaselessly  to  her  thoughts  and  to 
her  heart,  which  would  now  have  had  no  barriers  to  its 
inclinations  ;  and  that  prince,  with  so  many  talents  hitherto 
kept  useless  by  envy,  but  reconciled  before  his  death  to 
Mme.  de  Maintenon,  intimately  allied  with  the  dauphin 
and  with  the  Dues  de  Chevreuse  and  BeauviUiers  and  the 
Archbishop  of  Cambrai,  would  soon  under  these  new 
auspices  have  become  the  guide  of  the  Court  and  of  the 
State  in  the  coming  future.  He  was  the  only  man  to  whom 
Mme.  la  Duchesse  would  ever  have  been  faithful ;  she  was 
the  only  woman  for  w^hom  the  prince  would  never  have 
been  inconstant ;  he  would  have  laid  his  grandeur  at  her 
feet  in  homage,  and  she  would  have  shone  by  his  lustre. 
What  maddening  memories!  —  with  Lassai,  junior,  for  all 
comfort!  For  want  of  better,  she  attached  herself  there, 
and  the  intimacy  lasts  still,  after  thirty  years'  duration. 

A  desolation  so  well  founded  soon  ceased,  however,  ex- 
ternally. She  was  not  made  for  tears ;  she  wanted  to  for- 
get her  grief,  and  she  threw  herself  into  amusements  and 
soon  into  pleasures  ;  she  sought  to  drown  her  sorrows,  and 
she  succeeded.  The  Prince  de  Eohan,  who  had  spent  a 
million  on  the  hotel  de  Guise,  became  an  admirable  puppet 
in  her  hands  and  gave  her  fetes  under  pretext  of  showing 
her  his  house,  but  really  in  the  hope  that  this  palace  and 
his  immense  wealth  might  tempt  Mme.  la  Duchesse  to  rid 
herself  of  one  of  her  daughters  in  favour  of  his  son.  With 
a  figure  slightly  deformed,  although  this  was  hardly  percep- 
tible, her  face  was  formed  by  the  tenderest  love  and  her 
mind  was  made  to  play  with  love  at  her  fancy,  without  ever 
being  mastered  by  it.     All  amusement  seemed  hers ;  easy 


.  //„.,  /.,  '/„./,,.. 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  291 

with  everybody,  she  had  the  art  of  putting  them  at  their 
ease;  nothing  in  her  but  what  went  naturally  to  pleasing, 
with  matchless  grace,  even  to  her  smallest  actions,  and  a 
wit  as  natural,  which  had  infinite  charm.  Loving  no  one, 
and  known  to  love  none,  it  was  impossible  to  avoid  seeking 
her  or  to  be  convinced  that  you  had  not  won  her ;  and  this 
was  so  even  with  those  who  were  almost  strangers  to  her. 
The  persons  who  had  most  reason  to  fear  her  she  enchained, 
and  those  who  had  most  reason  to  hate  her  had  need  to 
remind  themselves  of  it  often,  in  order  to  resist  her  charm. 
Never  the  slightest  ill-humour  at  any  time ;  playful,  gay, 
sparkling,  with  a  most  delicate  wit,  invulnerable  to  mishaps 
or  sudden  annoyances,  at  ease  in  the  most  constrained  and 
disquieting  moments,  she  had  passed  her  life  in  frivolity 
and  in  pleasures,  which  now,  as  far  as  she  could,  approached 
licentiousness.  With  these  qualities,  much  intelligence  and 
sense  for  a  cabal,  and  a  suppleness  in  the  management  of  af- 
fairs that  cost  her  nothing,  but  lacking  prudence  for  matters 
that  ran  a  course  ;  inwardly  contemptuous,  scoffing,  sting- 
ing; incapable  of  friendship,  very  capable  of  hatred,  and 
then  malignant,  haughty,  implacable,  fertile  in  base  artifices, 
and  in  cruel  tales,  with  which  she  gayly  dubbed  the  persons 
she  seemed  to  like  and  who  passed  their  lives  with  her. 
She  was  the  siren  of  the  poets ;  she  had  all  a  .siren's  charms 
and  pitfalls.  With  age,  ambition  had  come;  but  the  taste 
for  pleasure  was  never  lost,  and  this  frivolity  helped  hor 
to  cover  for  a  long  time  solid  facts. 

We,  must  now  comh;  to  tliose  who,  like  the  Due  de  Bcau- 
villiers,  found  their  prospects  in  this  change,  and  see  what 
The  Due  de  yfOTO  tlic  aftcr  effccts  of  it. 

Bcnuviiiicrii  nnd  ^l,  fjj.f,t  Hifdit  fcw  pcrsons  appoarcd  mwn  the 

Kenclon,  Arch-  ^  '  '  '  ^ 

binhopof  scone.     And   thn.s(^  who  did  so  were  scarcely 

noticed,  iiiilcs:;  it  wen!  the  principals  and  thoso 


292  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,      [chap,  x 

most  noted,  because  of  the  cautious  policy  by  which  they 
sheltered  themselves.  Still,  it  may  well  be  supposed  there  was 
much  desire  to  make  cause  with  those  principals  and  with 
others  who  might  come  to  be  recognized.  We  can  imagine 
also  the  feelings  of  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers,  the  only  man, 
perhaps,  for  whom  Monseigneur  himself  had  conceived  an 
aversion  so  great  that  he  could  not  conceal  it,  and  which 
was  of  course  most  carefully  fomented. 

In  exchange  for  that  aversion,  Beauvilliers  now  saw  the 
unhoped-for  elevation  of  a  pupil  who  took  a  private  pleasure 
in  being  his  pupil  still,  and  who  made  it  a  public  honour  to 
show  this  feeling,  which  nothing  could  ever  change.  The 
honest  man  in  his  love  for  the  State,  the  good  man  in  his 
desire  for  the  progress  of  virtue,  and,  imder  these  powerful 
aspects,  another  F^nelon,  now  saw  himself  enabled  to  serve 
usefully  the  State  and  virtue,  to  prepare  the  way  for  the 
return  of  that  dear  archbishop,  and  to  make  him  before  long 
his  co-operator  in  all  things.  Through  all  the  purity  and 
simple  piety  of  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers  a  fragment  of  the 
humanity  inseparable  from  man  caused  him  an  expansion 
of  the  heart  and  mind,  a  gladness  in  those  useful  plans 
which  in  future  would,  as  it  were,  fulfil  themselves,  a  sense 
of  dictatorship  all  the  more  enjoyable  because  so  rare,  so 
full,  so  wholly  unexpected  and  without  contradiction.  These 
feelings  now  shed  themselves  about  him  on  his  own  family, 
and  with  those  of  his  choice  who  were  nearest  to  him. 
Persecuted  in  the  midst  of  a  dazzling  fortune,  as  we  have 
seen  in  more  than  one  instance,  pushed  sometimes  to  the 
edge  of  the  precipice,  he  suddenly  found  himself  built  upon 
a  rock;  and  perhaps  it  was  not  without  complacency  that 
he  looked  at  the  waves  whose  violence  had  so  nearly  swept 
him  away,  but  now  could  only  break  at  his  feet.  His  soul, 
however,  maintained    its   usual   poise ;    the   same  wisdom. 


1711]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  293 

same  moderation,  same  attention,  same  gentleness,  affability, 
courtesy,  tranquillity ;  not  the  slightest  motion  towards 
exaltation,  to  distraction  of  mind,  or  to  eagerness.  Another 
cause,  more  worthy  of  him,  crowned  him  with  gladness. 
Sure  of  the  secret  soul  of  the  new  dauphin,  he  foresaw 
his  triumph  over  minds  and  hearts  when  the  day  of  free- 
dom came,  and  he  would  be  in  his  future  place.  It  was 
on  this  reflection  that,  alone  with  us,  he  abandoned  himself 
wholly  to  his  feelings. 

Chevreuse,  one  with  him  in  all  the  days  of  their  lives, 
rejoiced  with  him  in  the  same  joy,  finding  the  same  reasons 
for  it,  while  their  families  congratulated  each  other  on  the 
consolidation  of  their  fortunes  and  the  results  that  could  not 
fail  to  follow.  But  he  by  whom  this  event  was  most  keenly 
felt  was  Fdnelon,  Archbishop  of  Cambrai.  What  a  prepara- 
tion !  What  an  approach  of  sure  and  perfect  triumph ! 
What  a  powerful  ray  of  light  piercing  through  the  gloom ! 

Confined  for  the  last  twelve  years  to  his  diocese  the  prelate 
was  growing  old  under  the  weight  of  his  useless  hopes,  see- 
ing the  years  flow  by  in  a  monotony  that  could  only  dis- 
hearten him.  Always  odious  to  the  king,  before  whom  no 
one  dared  to  pronounce  his  name  even  in  relation  to  indif- 
ferent things,  more  odious  still  to  Mme.  de  Maintenon 
because  she  had  ruined  him,  more  exposed  than  any  other 
man  to  the  terrible  cabal  which  ruled  Monseigneur,  he  had 
no  resource  save  in  the  unalterable  friendship  of  his  pupil, 
himself  the  victim  of  that  cabal,  and  who,  in  tlic  ordinary 
course  of  nature,  would  be  so  too  long  for  his  old  preceptor 
to  survive  to  sec  his  freedom,  and  through  it  Iuh  own  escape 
from  his  present  state  of  death  in  life.  In  tlie  twinkling  of 
un  eye  that  pupil  became  dan])hiti ;  in  another  he  attained, 
as  wo  sliall  hco,  to  a  sort  of  premature  reign.  What  a  transi- 
tion for  un  anibitiouH  niun  I 


294  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  x. 

We  have  already  seen  him  at  the  time  of  his  disgrace. 
His  famous  "  T^l^maque  "  which  deepened  it  and  made  it 
incurable,  paints  him  from  nature.  The  Due  de  Noailles, 
who,  as  we  have  seen,  was  seeking  nothing  less  than  all  the 
offices  of  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers,  told  the  king  and  every- 
one who  would  listen  to  him  that  the  Archbishop  of  Cambrai 
was  an  enemy  to  his  person  for  having  \\Titten  it.  Although 
we  have  already  advanced  in  these  Memoirs  into  a  knowledge 
of  a  prelate  who  still,  in  the  depths  of  his  disgrace,  caused  so 
much  fear,  and  whose  figure  in  all  his  conditions  of  life  was 
so  remarkable,  it  may  not  be  useless  to  add  a  few  words 
about  him  here. 

More  ingratiating  than  any  woman,  but  in  solid  ways  and 
not  in  trifles,  F^nelon's  passion  was  to  please ;  and  he  took  as 
much  pains  to  captivate  the  valets  as  the  masters,  the  small- 
est persons  as  well  as  the  great  personages.  For  this  he  had 
talents  given  expressly:  gentleness,  insinuation,  natural 
graces  genuine  to  himself,  a  complying  mind,  ingenious, 
flowery,  agreeable,  of  which  he  held,  as  it  were,  the  faucet, 
and  turned  it  on  in  quantity  and  quality  exactly  suited  to 
each  thing  and  each  person.  He  proportioned  himself  out, 
and  was  all  tilings  to  all  men.  A  singular  figure,  but  noble, 
striking,  penetrating,  attractive ;  of  easy  access  to  all ;  facile 
in  conversation,  which  was  light  and  always  decent;  a 
winning  manner,  a  piety  that  was  cheerful,  equable,  and 
frightened  none,  but  made  itself  respected  ;  liberahty  well 
understood ;  magnificence  which  offended  none,  spending 
itself  on  officers  and  soldiers,  involving  a  vast  hospitality ; 
and  yet,  as  to  table,  furniture,  and  equipments,  never  going 
beyond  the  proper  limits  of  his  place.  Equally  obliging  and 
modest ;  secret  in  all  services  that  could  be  tendered  secretly 
(and  they  were  numberless),  active  and  easy  in  doing  others, 
so  that  he  often  seemed  the  obliaed  of  those  to  whom  he  did 


1711]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUC   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  295 

them  ;  never  too  officious,  never  complimentary  ;  with  a  polite- 
ness which  embraced  all,  and  yet  was  always  measured  and 
proportioned  with  a  precision  in  which  he  so  excelled  that 
every  person  believed  it  was  shown  to  him  especially. 
Adroit,  above  all,  in  the  art  of  bearing  misfortunes,  he  used 
this  merit  in  a  way  to  gain  glory  for  his  sufferings,  and  the 
heart-felt  admiration  and  devotion  of  all  the  inhabitants 
of  the  Low-Countries,  whoever  they  might  be,  and  of  their 
rulers,  whose  love  and  veneration  he  possessed.  He  enjoyed, 
while  hoping  for  another  line  of  life  (which  he  never  lost 
sight  of),  all  the  sweetness  of  this  position,  which  he  might 
have  regretted  in  the  splendid  position  for  which  he  was 
always  sighing  ;  and  he  enjoyed  it  with  so  apparent  a  peace 
of  mind  that  to  any  one  who  did  not  know  what  he  had 
been  and  what  he  might  still  become,  even  to  those  who  ap- 
proached him  most  nearly  and  saw  him  most  familiarly, 
nothing  ever  appeared  to  the  contrary. 

With  so  much  exterior  towards  the  world,  he  was  not  less 
sedulous  in  the  duties  of  a  bishop  who  had  nothing  but  a 
diocese  to  govern  and  was  not  distracted  by  other  interests- 
Visits  to  hospitals  and  almshouses  ;  the  distribution  of  large 
but  judicious  charity,  his  clergy,  his  religious  communities, 
nothing  was  neglected.  He  said  mass  every  day  in  his 
chapel,  and  ofHciated  often  ;  fulfilled  liis  episcopal  functions 
without  ever  asking  for  assistance,  and  preached  occasionally. 
Ife  found  time  for  everything,  yet  he  never  seemed  busy. 
If  is  open  house  and  table  were  like  those  of  a  governor  of 
Flanders,  and  yet  at  the  same  time  suitable  for  an  episcopal 
palace.  They  were  filled  at  all  times  with  distinguished 
jjcrsons  from  the  war ;  and  many  ollicers,  sound,  sick,  and 
wounded,  who  lodged  there,  were  served  and  taken  cmv  of  ns 
if  tli(;r(!  wc.ro  bnt  one  ;  ho  himself  ])oing  usuiilly  present  at 
all  consultatiouH  of  physicians  and  surgeons,  and  j)erforming 


296  MEMOTKS  OF  THE   DUC   DE  SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  x. 

in  other  respects  to  the  sick  and  wounded  the  functions  of  a 
merciful  pastor;  and  this  without  neglect  or  niggardliness, 
always  thoughtful  and  with  open  hand.  Consequently,  he 
was  adored  by  all. 

This  wonderful  external  presentation  was,  however,  not 
wholly  due  to  his  own  self.  Without  pretending  to  fathom 
him,  it  may  boldly  be  said  that  he  was  not  without  care  and 
search  for  whatever  might  help  to  reattach  him  and  bring  him 
back  to  his  old  position.  Intimately  united  with  that  section 
of  the  Jesuits  at  the  head  of  which  stood  P^re  Tellier,  who 
had  never  abandoned  him,  and  had,  in  fact,  supported  him 
beyond  their  strength,  he  occupied  his  leisure  in  writings 
which,  sharply  taken  up  by  Pfere  Quesnel  and  others,  only 
tightened  the  bonds  of  a  union  by  which  he  hoped  sooner  or 
later  to  soften  the  bitterness  of  the  king.  The  silence  of  the 
Church  was  the  natural  result  to  a  bishop  whose  doctrine  had, 
after  so  much  talk  and  dispute,  been  condemned  in  Piome. 
He  had  too  much  inteUigence  not  to  feel  this ;  but  he  had 
also  too  much  ambition  to  regard  as  insignificant  so  many 
voices  raised  against  his  dogma  and  his  dogmatic  writings, 
and  so  many  other  voices  that  did  not  spare  him  as  to  his 
motives,  which  an  enhghtened  few  saw  clearly  enough. 

He  went  towards  his  object,  however,  without  being  turned 
aside  to  either  right  or  left ;  occasionally  he  gave  his  friends 
good  cause  to  sound  his  name  ;  he  flattered  Eome,  to  him  so 
thankless ;  he  made  himself  considered  by  the  whole  Society 
of  Jesuits  as  a  prelate  of  great  experience,  in  favour  of  whom 
no  efforts  should  be  spared ;  he  succeeded  in  conciliating  La 
Ch^tardie,  the  rector  of  Saint-Sulpice,  now  the  imbecile  con- 
fessor and  even  governor  of  Mme.  de  Maintenon. 

Amid  his  combats  with  the  pen,  Fdnelon,  consistent  in  the 
gentleness  of  his  conduct,  and  in  his  passion  to  make  himself 
liked,  was  very  careful  not  to  engage  in  active  war.     The 


1711]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  297 

Low-Countries  swarmed  with  Jansenists  or  persons  reported 
such.  His  own  diocese,  and  Cambrai  itself,  were  specially- 
full  of  them ;  yet  both  were  havens  of  rest  and  peace  to 
them.  Happy  and  content  to  find  an  asylum  under  their 
pen-enemy,  they  did  not  excite  themselves  in  any  way 
against  their  archbishop,  who,  opposed  as  he  was  to  their 
doctrine,  left  them  in  every  sort  of  tranquillity.  They  trusted 
their  dogmatic  defence  to  others,  and  made  no  attack  on  the 
general  love  that  was  borne  to  F^nelon.  By  this  easy-going 
treatment  he  lost  nothing  of  his  credit  as  a  mild  and  pacific 
prelate,  nor  any  of  his  ecclesiastical  hopes  from  the  Church, 
whose  interest  it  was  to  do  well  by  him. 

Such  was  the  position  of  the  Archbishop  of  Cambrai 
when  the  news  reached  him  of  Monseigneur's  death ;  such 
the  mainspring  of  his  own  actions  and  the  authority  of  his 
friends.  Never  was  union  so  strong  or  so  unalterable  as 
that  among  this  little  flock  apart.  It  was  founded  on  the 
most  intimate  and  trustful  confidence,  which  itself  rested,  as 
they  believed,  on  the  love  of  God  and  of  his  Church.  Nearly 
all  its  members  were  persons  of  the  highest  virtue,  whether 
they  were  great  or  small ;  very  few  of  them  had  only  a  shell 
which  was  taken  by  the  others  for  virtue.  All  had  but  one 
aim,  which  no  misfortunes  could  shake,  and  towards  which 
they  all  advanced  with  cautious  and  cadenced  step,  namely  : 
to  bring  their  master  back  from  Cambrai ;  to  live  and  breathe 
for  him  alone  ;  to  think  and  act  solely  upon  his  principles ; 
and  to  receive  his  advice  on  all  things,  as  the  oracle  of  Ood, 
of  which  h(;  w;i8  nuide  the  channel.  What  is  there  that  an 
eiichiintnicnt  of  this  nature  cannot  do  when  it  lays  hold  ujion 
the  hearts  of  honest  ]H!r,sonH,  the  minds  of  intelligent  jiersons, 
the  taste  and  the  ardent  fricindship  of  faithful  souls,  and  is 
still  further  made,  divine  to  them  by  the  lirni,  long-standing, 
constant  o)»iniun    tliiil,  hero  is  piuly,  virtu(!,  (Jod's  own  glory, 


298  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.       [chap.  x. 

the  safety  of  the  Church,  the  salvation  of  their  own  souls  ? 
To  these  ends  all  within  them  was  subordinated  in  good 
faith. 

Through  this  unfolding  we  can  see  without  difficulty  what 
a  powerful  mainspring  was  the  Archbishop  of  Cambrai  for 
the  Dues  de  Beauvilliers  and  Chevreuse  and  their  wives,  all 
four  of  them  having  but  one  heart,  one  soul,  one  sentiment, 
one  thought.  It  was  perhaps  this  consideration  alone  that 
prevented  the  Due  de  Beauvilliers  from  retiring  from  the 
world  on  the  death  of  his  sons,  and  on  other  occasions  when 
he  felt  himself  near  to  ruin.  The  Due  de  Chevreuse  and 
he  had  a  taste  and  longing  for  retirement.  They  were  so 
sincere  in  this  that  their  daily  lives  followed  it  too  closely  to 
be  quite  compatible  with  their  employments.  But  the  ardour 
of  their  desire  to  work  for  the  glory  of  God,  for  the  Church, 
for  their  own  salvation,  made  them  believe,  with  the  most 
sincere  good  faith,  that  they  ought  to  remain  in  office  and 
let  nothing  escape  them  which  might  lead  to  the  return  of 
their  spiritual  father.  They  needed,  as  they  thought,  no 
more  transcendent  reason  to  endure  all,  glide  through  all, 
and  avert  storms,  in  order  to  escape  self-reproach  on  some 
possible  future  day  for  having  made  themselves  useless  to  a 
work  in  their  eyes  so  capital,  —  a  work  which  might  by  the 
mysterious  ways  of  Providence  be  presented  to  them,  al- 
though for  so  long  they  had  seen  no  sign  of  it. 

The  sudden  change  produced  by  the  death  of  Monseigneur 
seemed  to  them  the  mighty  operation  of  Providence  working 
for  M.  de  Cambrai,  the  promise  so  patiently  awaited  without 
knowing  whether  or  how  it  could  ever  be  accomplished,  the 
recompense  of  the  just  who  live  by  faith,  who  hope  against 
all  hope,  and  are  delivered  in  times  and  seasons  unexpected. 
I  do  not  mean  that  I  heard  them  say  all  that ;  but  whoever 
saw  them  as  I  did  in  their  interior,  saw  also  such  consistency 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  299 

with  that  idea  in  all  the  tissue  of  their  life,  their  conduct, 
their  sentiments,  that  to  attribute  it  to  them  is  not  merely 
investigating,  it  is  knowing  them  thoroughly.  Close-mouthed 
on  all  that  approached  these  topics,  shut  in  among  the  little 
circle  of  old  disciples,  never  admitting  any  proselytes  for 
fear  of  repenting  it,  they  only  enjoyed  a  real  liberty  when 
together,  and  this  liberty  was  so  sweet  to  them  that  they 
preferred  it  to  all  else ;  hence  that  union  more  than  fraternal 
between  the  dukes  and  their  wives ;  hence  the  impenetrable 
retreats  every  week  to  Vaucresson  with  a  small  number  of 
tried  disciples  ;  hence  that  monastic  seclusion  even  in  the 
midst  of  the  Court ;  and  hence  that  attachment  above  all 
else  to  the  new  dauphin,  carefully  trained  and  kept  by  them 
in  the  like  sentiments.  They  regarded  him  as  another 
Esdras,  —  as  the  restorer  of  the  temple  and  people  of  God 
after  their  long  captivity. 


XI. 

Among  the  little  flock  was  a  disciple  from  its  earliest  days 

when  it  held  its  assembhes  at  the  abbey  of  Montmartre, 

where  she  had  been  taught  in  her  youth,  and 

The  Due  de  &  J  ' 

charost  and  his  whither  she  Went  ever}'  week  with  Cardinal  de 
'"°   "■  Koailles  before  he  retired  in  caution  from  the 

little  band.  This  was  the  Duchesse  de  Bdthune,  who  had 
ever  since  increased  in  ^artues  and  was  thought  worthy  by 
Mme.  Guyon  of  being  her  favourite.  Here  was  par  excellence 
the  great  soul,  before  which  even  M.  de  Cambrai  bowed,  for 
his  own  was  only  greater  by  difference  of  sex.  This  con- 
fraternity had  made  her,  the  daugliter  of  the  surintendant 
Fouquet,  the  intimate  friend  of  the  three  daughters  of  Colbert 
and  his  sons-in-law,  who  all  regarded  her  with  the  deepest 
veneration. 

The  Due  de  Bdthune,  her  husband,  was  only  a  brother 
cut-cabbage,  tolerated  for  her  sake  ;  but  the  Due  de  Charost, 
her  son,  gathered  aU  the  fruits  of  the  beatitude  of  his  saintly 
mother.  A  strict  integrity,  high  honour,  and  every  virtue 
that  could  be  added  by  force  of  arms,  joined  to  the  most  en- 
tire devotion  to  M.  de  Cambrai  that  the  mother-disciple  could 
wish,  made  the  foundation  of  the  character  of  the  son ;  which 
was  otherwise  inlaid  with  extreme  ambition,  jealousy  in  pro- 
portion, great  love  of  society,  in  which  he  mingled  much 
and  for  wliich  he  was  well-fitted,  a  mind  for  the  great  world, 
none  at  all  for  affairs  ;  no  instruction  of  any  kind  whatever, 
not  even  in  devotion,  except  that  wliich  was  peculiar  to  the 
little  flock,  and  an  extraordinary  activity  of  body.     Faithful 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  301 

to  his  friends,  very  capable  of  friendship,  and  amazingly 
secret  in  the  midst  of  an  intolerable  flux  of  words,  heredi- 
tary in  the  family  from  father  to  son.  He  is  perhaps  the 
only  man  who  has  ever  known  how  to  join  throughout  his 
life  a  public  profession  of  piety  to  the  closest  intimacy  with 
the  hbertines  of  his  day  and  the  friendship  of  most  of  them  ; 
for  they  all  sought  him  and  had  him  as  much  as  they  could 
at  their  parties,  if  there  was  no  debauchery,  and  not  only 
never  laughed  at  his  habits  so  different  from  theirs  (I  am 
speakmg  of  the  best  and  most  brilliant  company  of  the 
Court  and  armies),  but  treated  him  with  freedom  and  con- 
fidence, and,  while  they  restrained  themselves  out  of  consider- 
ation for  him,  they  never  lost  their  gayety  or  sense  of  liberty. 
He  was  excellent  company  and  a  hvely  guest ;  with  gallantry, 
gayety,  and  wit  that  was  often  very  amusing.  The  vivacity 
of  his  temperament  caused  him  passions,  on  which  his  piety 
put  a  painful  curb  "but  mastered  them  by  strength  of  arm ; 
which  sometimes  furnished  him  with  a  jest  against  himself. 

M.  ds  Beauvilliers  had  often  wished  in  former  days  that 
Charost  and  I  could  be  intimate,  and  this  intercourse  had 
come  about  and  resulted  in  the  greatest  intimacy,  which 
lasted  ever  after  between  us.  T  have  never  known  M.  de 
Cambrai  except  by  sight ;  I  was  only  just  entering  the  world 
at  the  time  of  his  loss  of  favour ;  and  I  never  took  part  in 
the  mysteries  of  the  little  flock.  This  was  being  very  in- 
ferior to  Charost  in  the  eyes  of  the  Dues  de  Chevreuse  and 
I'eauvilliers,  for  ho  was  familiar  with  their  gnosis,  while 
I  knew  all  their  mind  as  to  the  State,  tlie  Court,  and  their 
guidance  of  the  dauphin.  As  to  their  gnosis,  thoy  never 
talked  to  me  of  that ;  but  they  did  so  with  open  h(>.art  about 
their  attachment  and  admiration  for  M.  de  Cambrai,  and 
their  doHire  and  nuMiHuros  for  bis  return.  Dampierro  and 
Vaucrcsfion   wen*  opv.n  to  nio  at  all  tinioa  ;  the  .secret  con- 


302  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  xi. 

disciples  appeared  openly  before  me,  and  talked  the  same ; 
I  was  the  sole  person,  not  initiated  into  their  gnosis,  to  whom 
this  sort  of  freedom  and  confidence  was  granted. 

Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  was  also  altogether  in  the  confidence 
of  MM.  and  Mmes.  de  Chevreuse  and  de  BeauviUiers,  who 
had  the  highest  opinion  of  her  virtue,  her  conduct,  and  the 
character  of  her  mind.  I  had  the  utmost  liberty  with  them 
to  say  everything ;  which  would  not  have  been  becoming  of 
course  to  the  devotion  of  the  Due  de  Charost ;  and  moreover 
I  had  every  opportunity,  as  I  have  shown  already,  to  warn 
them  of  matters  not  as  yet  apparent  and  of  the  highest  impor- 
tance, —  things  that  they  would  hardly  believe  till  the  event 
justified  them ;  and  this  had  put  the  last  touch  to  their  per- 
fect openness  on  everything  with  me,  whose  faithful  and 
constant  friendship,  above  all  other  preference,  they  had 
tested. 

It  was  therefore  a  very  sweet  and  a  very  pure  joy  to  me 
to  feel  myself  the  only  man  of  the  Court  in  the  closest 
alHance  and  most  entire  confidence  with  what  was  now, 
without  fear  of  reversal,  to  figure  so  grandly  before  the 
world,  and  so  powerfully  on  the  dauphin,  who  would  hence- 
forth give  the  tone  to  aU  things.  But  the  more  my  intimate 
relations  with  the  two  dukes  became  known,  the  more  I 
kept  myself  on  guard  against  an  appearance  of  too  great 
satisfaction ;  and  the  more  important  they  grew,  the  more 
careful  I  was  that  my  behaviour  and  my  Hfe  should  be  kept 
within  their  usual  bounds  in  all  respects. 

In  this  great  change  of  scene  there  appeared  at  first  only 
two  visible  personages  to  profit  by  it:  the  Due  de  Beau- 
Conduct  of  villiers,  and  through  him  the  Due  de  Chevreuse, 

the  Dues  de  ^^^  ^  ^j^^^  -^^  ^j^g  distancc,  the  Archbishop  of 

Chevreuse  and  '  ^ 

de  BeauviUiers.  Cambrai,  Everything  smiled  on  the  first  two 
suddenly ;  everybody  hastened  around  them ;  each  had  been 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  303 

friendly  to  all  and  at  all  times.  But  the  courtiers  now  tound 
that  in  them  they  had  not  the  usual  mushroom  ministers  to 
deal  with,  fresh  from  the  dust  and  raised  in  a  moment  to 
guide  the  helm  of  State,  equally  ignorant  of  public  affairs 
and  of  the  Court,  equally  puffed-up  and  intoxicated,  inca- 
pable of  resisting,  rarely  capable  of  distrusting  blandishments, 
and  who  often  had  the  fatuity  to  attribute  to  their  own 
merits  that  which  was  prostituted  solely  to  gain  their  favour. 
These  others,  without  changing  in  any  way  the  modesty  of 
their  demeanour,  nor  the  arrangement  of  their  lives,  thought 
only  of  how  to  keep  away  as  much  as  possible  from  the 
baseness  thus  heaped  at  their  feet;  to  make  use  of  their 
tried  friends  only ;  to  fortify  themselves  with  the  king  by 
redoubled  assiduity;  to  moor  themselves  nearer  and  still 
nearer  to  their  dauphin;  to  lead  him  to  appear  before  the 
world  such  as  he  really  was,  without  seeming  to  lead  him ; 
and  to  show  (as  much  on  the  side  of  winning  hearts  and 
esteem  as  on  that  of  exercising  authority)  how  entirely  he 
differed  from  his  father. 

They  did  not  neglect  to  try  to  approach  the  dauphine,  or 
at  least  not  to  alienate  her  from  them.  She  was  so  in  a 
measure,  through  a  great  opposition  of  inclination  and  be- 
haviour; and  still  more  through  the  influence  of  Mme.  de 
Main  tenon.  Their  virtue,  too  stern  for  her  liking  because 
she  only  saw  its  outside  bark,  made  her  fear  for  their  influ- 
ence on  the  dauphin,  which  sliould  rather  have  attached  her 
to  them  had  she,  with  all  her  cleverness,  known  how  to 
discern  true  piety,  true  virtue,  true  wisdom. 

The  spring,  being  the  season  for  the  assembling  of  the 
armies,  made  the  cliange  which  had  now  taken  place  at  Court 
Concourse  at  distinctly  pcrccptible  at  Cambrai.  That  town 
Cumbrni  bor'anic-  l\w  (inly  route  to  the  dillonuit  jmrts  of 

Flanders.     All  tlie  Court  j)0()j)l(i  on  duty  there,  all  the  general 


304  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUC  DE  SAINT-SIxMON.     [chap.  xi. 

officers,  and  even  the  less  known  officers  passed  through  Cam- 
brai  and  stopped  there  if  possible.  The  archbishop  had  such 
a  Court,  and  so  assiduous  a  one,  that  in  spite  of  his  joy  he  was 
troubled,  fearing  the  echo  and  the  evil  effect  it  might  have  on 
the  king.  We  can  imagine  with  what  affability,  modesty, 
and  discernment  he  received  all  this  homage ;  and  the  good- 
will which  these  long-sighted,  subtle  ones  foresaw  and  pre- 
pared for  on  their  way  to  Flanders. 

It  did  in  fact  make  a  great  noise  ;  but  the  prelate  behaved 
so  dexterously  that  neither  the  king  nor  Mme.  de  Maintenon 
showed  displeasure  at  the  concourse,  which,  apparently,  they 
wished  to  ignore.  As  for  the  Dues  de  Chevreuse  and  de  Beau- 
vilhers,  the  king,  long  accustomed  to  love  and  respect  them 
and  to  give  them  his  confidence  in  spite  of  the  harsh  attacks 
upon  them  which  were  sometimes  made  to  him,  did  not  take 
umbrage  at  their  new  resplendency,  whether  it  were  that  it 
did  not  reach  his  ears  (a  thing  very  difficult  to  believe),  or 
that  nothing  could  now  turn  his  feelings  against  them. 
Mme.  de  Maintenon  also  gave  no  sign. 

It  may  well  be  believed  that  these  two  men  did  not  allow 
the  warm  feelings  of  the  dauphin  towards  the  Archbishop  of 
Cambrai  to  cool.  Pere  Tellier  was  one  with  them  on  that 
point,  though  at  total  variance  on  many  others.  Up  to  this 
time  there  had  been  but  these  four  admitted  to  the  inner 
confidence  of  the  princa  The  first  care  of  the  two  dukes  was 
to  lead  him  to  greater  expansion,  to  an  air  of  respect  and 
submission  more  openly  marked,  to  the  assiduity  of  a  courtier 
towards  a  king  so  naturally  jealous  —  as  he  had  made  his 
grandson  feel  on  more  than  one  occasion.  In  this  they  were 
ably  seconded  by  his  clever  wife,  herself  in  possession  of  aU 
privileges  with  the  king  and  in  the  heart  of  Mme.  de  Main- 
tenon. Under  her  influence  he  redoubled  his  attentions  to 
the  latter,  who,  delighted  to  find  a  dauphin  on  whom  she 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  305 

herself  could  safely  count,  in  place  of  one  who  did  not  like 
her,  gave  herself  up  to  him  and  in  that  way  brought  the  king 
to  do  so  likewise.  The  first  fifteen  days  made  the  extraordi- 
nary change  which  now  took  place  in  the  kmg,  usually  so 
reserved  with  his  legitimate  children  and  so  much  the  king 
to  them,  very  plain  to  all  who  were  at  Marly. 

Feeling  himself  more  at  large  through  the  great  stride  he 

had  now  made,  the  dauphin  became  bolder  in  society,  which 

he  had  dreaded  during  the  lifetime  of  Monsei- 

M.  le  Dauphin.  " 

gneur ;  for,  great  as  he  was,  he  h?A  had  many  a 
taunt  to  bear  from  it.  It  was  this  that  caused  the  shrinking 
with  which  he  shut  himself  up  in  his  cabinet,  where  alone  he 
felt  at  ease  and  sheltered ;  it  was  this  that  made  him  seem 
sullen,  and  thus  caused  others  to  dread  him  in  the  future. 
Always  rebuffed  by  his  father,  sometimes  by  the  king,  con- 
strained by  his  own  virtue,  exposed  to  an  audacious  and 
hostile  cabal  and  all  its  ramifications  which  filled  the  Court 
(people  with  whom  he  had  continually  to  live),  exposed  to 
the  world  and  its  worldliness,  he  lived  a  life  all  the  more  op- 
pressed and  obscure  because  it  was  necessarily  in  full  view, 
and  all  the  more  cruel  because  he  could  see  no  end  to  it. 

The  king  now  turning  to  him  heartily,  the  insolent  cabal 
dispersed  by  the  death  of  a  father  almost  inimical,  whose 
place  he  took,  the  world  about  him  respectful,  attentive, 
assiduous,  the  whole  Court  subdued,  and  all,  even  the  gay 
and  frivolous  (by  no  means  an  insignificant  part  of  a  Court), 
at  his  feet  through  his  wife,  secure,  moreover,  in  his  posi- 
tion with  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  wo  now  saw  this  shy,  sullen, 
self-contaiiHid,  finifiilly  virtuouH  prinoe,  this  niisplaced  student, 
thi.s  crampeil  and  liaiiiporcd  man,  a  stranger  in  his  own  house, 
constrained  by  everything,  embarrassed  everywhere,  —  we  saw 
him,  r  say,  reveal  himself  l)y  degrees,  unfold  his  nature  little 
by    IKtlo,   give  himself,   with  some   caution,  to  th(^    world, 

vol..  II.— 20 


306  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,    [chap.  xi. 

appearing  in  the  midst  of  it  free,  majestic,  gay,  agreeable, 
holding  salon  at  Marly  in  the  evenings,  presiding  over  a  circle 
assembled  around  him  like  the  divinity  of  a  temple  who  feels 
and  receives  with  kindness  the  homage  of  the  mortals  around 
him.  Soon  the  hunt  was  not  the  only  topic  of  interest ;  it 
was  left  to  the  meet  or  the  first  return.  Conversation,  easy 
and  yet  instructive,  choice,  and  well-addressed,  charmed  the 
wise  courtier  and  made  the  rest  admire.  Fragments  of  appro- 
priate history,  brought  in  without  art  and  on  natural  occa- 
sions ;  judicious  applications,  but  always  discreet  and  simply 
presented  without  obviously  making  them ;  lively  interludes, 
sometimes  amusing  ones,  and  all  spontaneous  without  effort ; 
occasional  snatches  of  science,  but  rarely  and  as  if  darting  out 
involuntarily  from  an  inward  plenitude,  —  these  things  all  of  a 
sudden  opened  the  eyes,  the  ears,  and  the  hearts  of  those 
about  him.  The  dauphin  became  another  Prince  de  Conti. 
The  desire  to  pay  him  court  seemed  in  many  less  an  eagerness 
merely  to  press  about  him  than  to  listen  to  him,  to  gain  in- 
struction made  pleasing  by  the  charm  of  a  natural  eloquence 
in  which  there  was  nothing  forced ;  and  above  all,  here  was 
the  consolation,  so  necessary  and  so  desired,  of  finding  a 
future  master  well  fitted  to  be  a  master  by  the  usage  he  now 
showed  he  knew  how  to  make  of  that  position. 

Gracious  to  all;  full  of  attentions  to  rank,  birth,  and 
age ;  acquitting  himself  duly  to  eveiy  one  (a  thing  long 
neglected,  and  bestowed  ahke  on  the  commonest  people  of 
the  Court) ;  careful  to  render  to  all  the  politeness  that  was 
due  to  them,  and  whatever  he  could  add  to  it  with  dignity  ; 
grave,  but  never  rigid,  at  times  gay  and  gladsome,  —  it  is  in- 
credible with  what  astonishing  rapidity  admiration  for  his 
mind,  esteem  for  his  good  sense,  the  love  of  hearts  and  all 
their  hopes  were  drawn  to  him,  how  firmly  the  false  ideas 
that  were  formed  of  him  were  cast  aside,  and  how  impetuous 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  307 

was  the  whirlwind  of  change  in  the  general  estimation  of  his 
character.  The  public  joy  was  so  great  that  it  could  not  keep 
silence,  and  people  asked  each  other  if  this  could  be  the 
same  man,  and  whether  what  they  saw  was  dream  or  reality. 
Cheverny,  who  was  one  of  those  to  whom  this  question  was 
addressed,  had  a  ready  answer.  He  said  that  the  cause  of 
their  wonder  was  that  they  had  never  known  the  prince, 
whom  they  had  never  chosen  to  know ;  that  for  himself  he 
found  him  such  as  he  had  always  known  him  and  seen  him 
in  private  ;  and,  though  now  he  was  free  to  show  himself  as 
he  was,  and  others  were  free  to  see  him  so,  he  was  no  differ- 
ent from  what  he  had  always  been ;  and  justice  would  be 
done  him  in  this  respect  when  continued  experience  would 
prove  the  truth.  From  the  Court  to  Paris  and  from  Paris 
to  the  depths  of  the  provinces  this  reputation  flew  with  such 
rapidity  that  even  those  most  closely  attached  to  the  dauphin 
asked  themselves  if  indeed  they  could  believe  what  came  to 
them  from  all  directions. 

Mme.  de  Maintenon,  delighted  with  these  plaudits,  for  the 
sake  of  her  dauphine  and  for  her  own  future  interests  in 
having  a  dauphin  to  rely  on,  did  her  best  to  use  all  her 
influence  with  the  king  in  his  favour.  Notwithstandins  the 
cautious  manner  in  which  she  treated  the  ministers,  their 
despotism  and  their  method  of  exercising  it  displeased  her 
greatly.  Her  most  familiar  attendants  had  discovered  on 
certain  rare  occasions  her  secret  sentiments  about  them, 
sometimes  expressed  in  passing  words  of  cutting  ridicule,  in 
which  slie  excelled,  sometimes  in  serious  language,  though 
always  smothered,  on  the  evils  of  the  present  government. 
She  tlunight,  therefore,  to  procure  for  herself  an  advantage, 
for  the  State  a  benefit,  for  tlie  king  a  comfort,  by  accuat(un- 
ing  the  latter  to  leave  the  preparation  of  public  afTairs  to  the 
(kmphin,  to  give  hini  the  inanngemnnt  of  mmw  of  IhiMu.  and 


308  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  xr. 

SO,  little  by  little,  relieve  himself  of  the  more  burdensome 
part  of  public  business,  in  which  the  dauphin  was  already 
initiated  from  his  habit  of  attending  the  councils,  where  he 
often  spoke  with  correctness  and  discernment.  She  beheved 
this  novelty  would  make  the  ministers  more  diligent,  more 
industrious,  and,  above  all,  more  tractable  and  more  circum- 
spect. To  will  and  to  do,  on  hidden  matters  which  by  their 
nature  could  be  led  up  to  from  afar  and  by  degrees,  cau- 
tiously, were  to  her  but  one  and  the  same  thing. 

The  wise  and  flexible  conduct  of  his  respectful  and  now 
assiduous  grandson  had  prepared  the  king  to  yield  easily  to 
Mme.  de  Mainteuon's  insinuating  suggestions.  But,  how- 
ever accustomed  the  Court  was  beginning  to  be  to  the  new 
pleasure  the  king  was  evidently  taking  in  the  dauphin,  it 
was  strangely  surprised  when,  one  morning,  after  detain- 
ing him  alone  in  his  cabinet  for  a  long  time,  he  gave  orders 
that  in  future  the  ministers  were  to  Avork  with  the  dauphin 
whenever  he  sent  for  them,  and  also  that,  without  being 
sent  for,  they  were  to  go  to  him  and  render  an  account  of  all 
public  matters ;  and  that  this  order  was  given  once  for  all. 

It  is  not  easy  to  describe  the  immense  commotion  made 
at  Court  by  an  order  so  directly  opposed  to  the  tastes,  mind, 
maxims,  and  practice  of  the  king,  hitherto  so  invariable ;  an 
order  that  in  itself  showed  a  confidence  in  the  dauphin 
which  meant  nothing  less  than  tacitly  placing  in  his  hands 
the  management  of  a  great  part  of  the  affairs  of  the  king- 
dom. It  was  a  thunderbolt  to  the  ministers,  which  stunned 
them  to  such  a  degree  that  they  were  imable  to  conceal 
either  their  astonishment  or  their  discomfiture.  It  was 
indeed  a  very  bitter  order  to  men  who,  drawn  from  the  dust 
and  suddenly  placed  at  the  summit  of  a  most  secure  power, 
were  accustomed  to  reign  under  cover  of  the  king's  name 
Cfor  which  they  sometimes  dared  to  substitute  their  own), 


1711]  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  309 

to  make  and  unmake  fortunes  tranquilly  and  without  con- 
tradiction, to  attack  successfully  the  highest,  to  be  masters 
of  all  and  dispose  of  all  with  absolute  authority  within  and 
without  the  kingdom,  to  dispense  as  they  pleased  all  favour, 
all  punishment,  all  reward,  to  decide  all  things  boldly  with 
"  The  king  commands,"  having  full  liberty  to  conceal,  tell, 
or  twist  these  matters  to  the  king  as  they  pleased,  —  in  a 
word,  kings  themselves,  and  almost  visibly  so.  What  a  fall 
for  such  men  to  have  to  submit  themselves  to  a  prince  who 
had  Mme.  de  Maintenon  on  his  side,  and  who  had,  more- 
over, become  more  powerful  with  the  king  on  their  own 
ground  than  they  were  themselves ;  a  prince  who  had  noth- 
ing between  him  and  the  throne  ;  who  was  capable,  laborious, 
enlightened,  with  a  sound  and  superior  mind  ;  one  who  had 
acquired  a  full  knowledge  of  all  that  was  done  since  his 
admission  to  the  councils  ;  to  whom  nothing  was  wanting  to 
be  able  to  direct  them  ;  and  with  all  this,  a  prince  whose 
heart  was  good,  and  just,  and  attached  t(j  order ;  who  pos- 
sessed discernment,  attention,  the  power  of  application  to 
follow  up  and  unravel  matters ;  who  knew  how  to  sound 
and  to  fathom  ;  who  could  not  be  put  off  by  things  or  by 
words ;  who  was  resolute  in  wanting  the  good  for  good's 
sake ;  who  weighed  all  with  the  scales  of  his  conscience ; 
who,  by  his  easy  access,  and  his  curiosity  as  to  schemes  and 
theories,  would  gain  information  through  many  channels  ; 
who  knew  well  how  to  compare  and  appreciate,  distrust 
and  confide  with  discernment  and  wise  persistency ;  and 
who  was  also  on  his  guard  against  treachery  on  all  sides  ; 
)i,  prince  who  liad  the  lu^iirt  of  the  king  and  his  car  at  all 
Ikmhh,  and  was  now  in  a  position  to  confound  all  double- 
(i(ialing  and  to  cany  a  y)enetrating  light  to  the  depths  of  the 
(l.trkiiCHH  th(!y,  the  niinistcrs,  had  formed  about  llifiii  and 
w(!r(!  thickening  constantly  with  ho  much  art. 


310  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON,      [chap.  xi. 

The  elevation  of  the  prince  and  the  condition  of  the 
Court  no  longer  allowed  them  the  remedy  of  cabals;  and 
the  open  joy  at  an  order  which  reduced  these  kings  to  the 
condition  of  subjects,  which  put  a  curb  on  their  power  and 
a  check  to  the  abuses  they  committed,  left  them  without 
resource.  There  was  no  course  open  to  them  but  to  bend 
their  shoulders  in  their  turn,  —  those  shoulders  stiffened  to 
the  rigidity  of  iron.  They  went,  with  the  air  of  condemned 
criminals,  to  assure  the  dauphin  of  their  obedience,  and 
their  joy  at  the  order  they  had  just  received. 

The  prince  had  no  difficulty  in  perceiving  that  which 
they  themselves  had  much  in  hiding.  He  received  them 
with  an  air  of  kindness  and  consideration ;  discussed  with 
them  the  details  of  their  day,  in  order  to  choose  hours  that 
were  least  inconvenient  for  the  necessities  of  their  work  and 
its  expedition ;  and  on  this  first  occasion  did  not  enter  upon 
public  matters,  but  also  did  not  postpone  an  immediate 
beginning  of  his  work  with  tiiem  in  his  own  apartment. 

Torcy  [secretary  of  State],  Voysin  [minister  of  war],  and 
Desmarets  [controller  of  finance]  were  the  ones  on  whom 
the  burden  fell,  through  the  importance  of  their  depart- 
ments. The  chancellor,  who  had  no  department,  was  not 
affected.  His  son  [Pontchartrain,  minister  of  the  marine], 
seeing  the  others  assiduously  working  with  the  dauphin, 
would  fain  have  been  summoned  also.  He  hoped  to  have 
reached  the  prince  in  that  way.  But  his  navy  was  at  a 
low  ebb,  and  the  items  about  his  detail  in  Paris  with  which 
he  amused  the  king  of  a  Monday  morning,  at  the  expense 
of  the  other  ministers  (of  which  d'Argenson  had  adroitly 
allowed  liim  to  usurp  the  odium),  were  not  to  the  taste  of 
the  dauphin,  nor  matters  about  which  he  chose  to  lose  his 
time.  Moreover  the  person  of  Pontchartrain  was  disagree- 
able to  him,  in  which  sentiment  he  was  encouraged  by  the 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON.  311 

dauphine,  who  always  called  him,  to  the  king,  "your  one- 
eyed  villain."  He  was  her  hete  noire,  and  she  spared  no 
efifort  to  injure  him  with  the  king.  I  wiU  give  one  anecdote 
among  many.  One  evening,  as  Pontchartrain  went  out  after 
working  with  the  king,  she  entered  the  room  from  the  large 
cabinet,  followed  by  Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  and  one  or  two 
other  ladies.  Close  to  the  place  where  Pontchartrain  had 
been  standing  she  spied  a  number  of  horrid  spittings  of  to- 
bacco juice.  "  Ha !  this  is  horrible,"  she  cried  to  the  king. 
"  It  is  your  one-eyed  villain ;  there  is  no  one  but  he  who 
does  such  horrors ; "  and  then  she  fell  upon  him  in  a  variety 
of  ways.  The  king  let  her  talk,  and  then  he  pointed  to 
Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  as  if  to  show  that  her  presence  ought 
to  restrain  her.  "  Pooh  !  "  she  answered,  "  she  does  not  say 
it  as  I  do,  but  I  am  certain  that  she  thinks  it  all  the  same ; 
in  fact,  who  could  think  otherwise?"  Thereupon  the  king 
laughed,  and  rose  to  go  to  supper.  The  new  dauphin 
thought  no  better  of  him,  and  Pontchartrain  could  never 
succeed  in  getting  summoned,  nor  could  he  ever  find  any- 
thing in  his  ministry  about  which  he  dared  to  go  and  give 
an  account ;  for  all  of  which  he  was  mortified.  La  Vrillifere 
had  only  the  current  details  of  his  provinces,  and  con- 
sequently no  matter  to  work  upon ;  the  department  in  his 
charge  was  that  of  the  so-called  reformed  religion,  and  all 
that  concerned  the  Huguenots.  After  the  consequences  of 
the  revocation  of  the  Edict  of  Nantes  were  over  it  had 
fallen  to  nothing,  so  that  really  ho  had  no  department. 

The  General  Assembly  of  the  clergy,  whicli  was  closing  nt 
this  time,  came  out  to  harangue  the  king  at  Marly.  Cardinal 
Thcdnuphin  (Ic  NoailUis,  its  Only  president,  was  at  its  head. 

ti'-'r-Ky  by  the  "  Ncsmond,  Archbishop  of  Alby,  niado  (be 
'''"'^-  speech,  of  which  T  did  not  lose  a  single  word. 

His  discourse,  after  the  inevitable  incense  of   flattery  had 


312  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  si. 

been  lavished  and  reiterated,  turned  upon  condolences  for 
the  death  of  JMonseigneur  and  on  the  matters  which  had  oc- 
cupied the  Assembly.  As  for  the  first  point,  he  said  with 
eloquence  all  that  was  suitable,  and  without  extravagance. 
On  the  other  point,  he  surprised,  astonished,  and  carried 
away  his  hearers.  It  is  impossible  to  show  with  what  deli- 
cacy he  touched  upon  the  violence  with  which  the  so-called 
gratuitous  gift  of  the  clergy  Vv-as  extorted,  and  the  adroitness 
with  which  he  mingled  praises  for  the  king  with  his  state- 
ment of  the  rigour  displayed  in  the  imposition  of  taxes.  Com- 
ing after  a  time  more  exphcitly  to  the  clergy,  he  dared  to 
review  the  sad  effects  of  such  long-continued  exactions  upon 
the  consecrated  portion  of  the  flock  of  Jesus  Christ  which 
serves  as  shepherd  to  the  rest ;  and  he  did  not  hesitate  to  say 
that  he  should  feel  himself  guilty  of  criminal  prevarication  if, 
instead  of  imitating  the  courage  of  bishops  who  spoke  before 
evil  princes  and  pagan  emperors,  he,  finding  himself  at  the 
feet  of  the  best  and  most  pious  of  kings,  concealed  from  him 
that  the  bread  of  the  word  was  lacking  to  the  people,  the 
bread  of  life,  the  bread  of  angels,  for  want  of  means  to  train 
pastors,  the  number  of  whom  was  now  so  diminished  that 
every  diocese  was  deficient  and  knew  not  how  to  help  it. 

The  king  thanked  him  in  an  obliging  manner  for  what  he 
had  so  well  stated.  He  even  mingled  with  his  answer  some- 
thing like  excuses,  and  praises  for  the  clergy,  and  concluded 
by  presenting  the  dauphin,  who  stood  near  him,  to  the  prel- 
ates, saying  that  he  hoped  that  this  prince,  by  his  justice 
and  his  talents,  would  do  better  than  himself ;  mingling 
with  these  remarks  a  few  touching  words  about  his  age  and 
his  own  not  distant  death.  All  present  were  much  moved 
by  this  answer;  and  no  one  refrained  from  praising  the 
freedom  of  the  address  and  the  incense  with  which  it  was 
enveloped.     The  king  seemed  not  to  be  shocked,  and  praised 


1711]  MEMOIES   OF  THE   DUC   DE   SAINT-SIMON.  313 

it  himself  in  few  but  obliging  words  to  the  archbishop. 
The  dauphin  was  touched  and  also  pained  by  what  the  king 
had  said  of  him.  The  king  ordered  a  grand  dinner  to  be 
given  to  the  prelates  and  deputies  of  the  second  class ;  also 
little  chariots  were  provided  in  which  they  went  about  after- 
wards to  see  the  gardens  and  the  waterworks. 

At  the  harangue  pronounced  by  Cardinal  de  Noailles  on 
the  opening  of  the  same  Assembly  the  king  had  already  said, 
presenting  the  dauphin  :  "  Here  is  a  prince  who,  by  his  virtue 
and  his  piety  will  render  the  Church  more  flourishing  and  the 
kingdom  happier."  He  had  now  said  almost  the  same  thing 
at  Marly,  but  with  more  feeling. 

The  dauphin  was  greatly  moved,  and  went  away  as  soon 
as  the  king  had  given  his  answer,  to  receive  in  his  room  the 
same  deputies  and  an  harangue  by  the  Cardinal  de  Noailles. 
The  address  was  beautiful,  and  the  answer  short,  wise, 
courteous,  modest,  and  neat.  Mme.  la  Dauphine  also  received 
them  in  her  apartments.  Cardinal  de  Noailles  still  being 
their  mouthpiece.  Let  us  return  now  to  the  obsequies  of 
Mon  seigneur. 

Owing  to  the  nature  of  the  disease  of  which  he  died,  no 
ceremonies  had  been  performed,  and  his  interment  had  been 
Funeral  services  hurricd,  as  we  havc  sccu.  The  18th  of  June, 
a[st°Delfir^'d  ^^^*^^^  ^^^^  ^^  ^  Thursday,  was  chosen  for  the 
at  Notre-Dame.  scrvice  at  Saint-Dcuis,  where  were  present,  as 
usual,  the  clergy  and  the  superior  Courts.  The  daupliin,  the 
Due  de  Berry,  and  the  Due  d'Orldans  were  the  mourners. 
The  Due  de  lieauvilliers,  first  and  sole  gentleman  of  the 
bedc.h!iml)er  to  the  dauphin,  assisted  by  Sniute-Maure,  one  of 
Monseigneur's  pages,  and  by  d'O,  wlio  was  tlie  »laii|)hin's 
page,  carried  his  train.  J5dthune-(.)rval,  siiK  (!  Due.  dc  Sully, 
the  first  gentleman  of  the  be(h;hamber  to  the  Due  do  Berry, 
and  I'iHiH,  master  of  his  wardrobe,  carried  his.     Siminn(>  and 


314  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap,  xl 

Armentiferes,  both  gentlemen  of  the  bedchamber  to  the  Due 
d'Orl^ans,  bore  his ;  and  thus,  as  he  had  two,  like  the  Due  de 
Berry,  this  equality  seemed  very  extraordinary.  As  there 
had  been  no  interment,  there  could  not  of  course  be  honours 
and  there  was  no  one,  consequently,  to  bear  them.i  The 
Archbishop  of  Eeims,  afterwards  Cardinal  de  Mailly,  offici- 
ated, and  Poncet,  bishop  of  Angers,  made  a  very  bad  fimeral 
oration. 

On  Friday,  July  3,  the  same  three  princes  mourned  at 
Notre-Dame.  They  dressed  at  the  archbishop's  palace  and 
went  on  foot  to  the  ceremony  from  the  palace  to  the  grand 
portal  of  Notre-Dame,  by  which  they  entered.  Cardinal  de 
Noailles  officiated,  and  P^re  La  Eue,  Jesuit,  made  such  a 
poor  business  of  the  funeral  oration  that  it  even  crushed  out 
that  of  the  Bishop  of  Angers.  Cardinal  de  Noailles  gave  the 
three  princes  after  the  ceremony  a  magnificent  dinner.  The 
dauphin  insisted  on  the  cardinal  sitting  at  table  with  all 
the  seigneurs  who  had  followed  them.  He  surpassed  himself 
in  attentions  and  pohteness,  but  measured  them  carefully  and 
with  discernment.  He  desired  all  the  doors  to  be  opened,  per- 
mitting the  crowd  to  press  upon  him,  and  spoke  to  several  of 
the  people  with  an  affability  which  did  not,  however,  detract 
from  the  gravity  exacted  externally  by  the  sad  ceremony. 
Nothing  but  acclamations  and  shouts  of  praise  followed  him 
as  he  drove  through  Paris,  spreading  very  soon  from  that 
centre  to  the  provinces ;  so  true  is  it  that  in  France  it  costs 
little  for  a  prince  to  make  himself  adored. 

The  king  had  issued  a  singular  regulation.  He  ruled  that 
while  he  himself  should  not  wear  mourning  for  Monseigneur, 
the   Court   mourning  would   last   one   year;  and   that   the 

1  At  certain  ceremonies,  such  as  the  coronation,  baptism  of  princes,  and 
their  funerals,  what  were  called  honours  were  the  chief  articles  used  in  the 
ceremony,  such  as  the  crown,  sceptre,  sword,  etc.  (Note  by  the  French 
editor.) 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  315 

princes  of  the  blood,  dukes,  foreign  princes,  officers  of  the 
crown,  and  the  grand  officers  of  his  household  should  wear 
the  same  kind  of  mourning  as  if  he  himself  wore  it,  though 
he,  because  he  did  not  wear  it  for  Mme.  la  Dauphine  de 
Bavi^re  [Monseigneur's  wife],  did  not  now  put  it  on. 

The  Due  de  Beauvilhers  enjoyed  the  splendour  of  his 
pupil's  changed  condition,  and  he  began  to  walk  with  his 
Discussions  be-      head  up,  and  to  hide  rather  less  that  the  time 

tween  the  Due  t       i  ,  ,    i   •  ij?      i   •       i 

de  BeauviUiers  '^'^^^^  come  to  assort  himselt ;  his  bearmg  was 
^^<^^^-  freer,  his  conduct  less  cautious;   in  his  talks 

with  me  he  showed  a  firmness  that  was  quite  foreign  to 
him.  I  perceived  an  unhoped-for  change,  to  which  I  had 
not  supposed  him  susceptible ;  I  saw  a  man  who  had  gath- 
ered himself  together,  —  vigorous,  active,  going  straight  to 
the  fact,  and  stripping  himself  of  shackles.  He  reviewed  the 
whole  Court  in  conversation  with  me,  without  bristling  up 
at  my  frankness  on  portraits,  and  without  disputing  them. 
He  remembered  that  I  had  always  told  him  the  exact  truth 
at  all  times ;  experience  had  shown  him  that  my  knowledge 
of  men  was  better  than  liis  ;  that  charity  and  his  habit  of 
cooping  himself  up  hindered  him  from  seeing  and  under- 
standing much.  He  was  certain  of  my  secrecy,  and,  I  may 
venture  to  say,  of  my  truth  and  my  integrity ;  he  could  not 
doubt  my  confidence,  ray  devotion,  my  unreserved  attach- 
ment, a  friendship  beyond  all  other  preference  during  the 
wliolii  sixteen  years  I  had  been  at  Court;  he  remembered 
that  it  was  my  desire  for  his  alliance  that  had  so  closely 
united  us.  He  therefore  talked  to  me  without  reserve  ;  and 
tlio  disproportion  of  our  age  and  fortune  was  no  hindraiioo 
to  tliu  fr(i(5  pouring  out  of  our  minds  on  all  nuitters,  which 
was  constant  and  imilual. 

This  examination  between  him  and  me  of  the  whole  Court 
went  HO  far  as  to  discuss  wlioni  it  was  best  to  bring  nearer 


316  MEMOIRS   OF  THE   DUG   DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  xi. 

to  the  dauphin  or  move  away  from  him.  The  town  as  well 
as  the  Court  had  its  turn ;  that  is  to  say,  we  examined  the 
legal  robe,  —  not  so  much  to  approach  or  remove  persons 
whose  station  made  them  not  susceptible  to  it,  as  to  agree 
together  (for  this  was  the  level  on  which  he  placed  me) 
whom  to  recommend  to  the  dauphin  as  suitable,  or  the  con- 
trary, for  employments.  Five  or  six  long  conversations  that 
we  had  tete-a-tete  (which  I  remark  because  the  Due  de 
Chevreuse  was  not  present)  completed  our  confidences  on 
this  important  matter.  They  were  followed  by  another 
tete-d-tete,  in  which  the  duke  unbosomed  himself  about  all 
those  persons  now  at  the  helm  of  public  affairs. 

We  have  seen  the  nature  of  his  extreme  piety,  his  aban- 
donment to  Mme.  Guyon,  above  all  to  M.  de  Cambrai  and 
the  little  flock,  which  had  come  near  destroying  him  more 
than  once  without  ever  detaching  him  from  them  the  least 
in  the  world,  and  his  consequent  attachment  to  the  Jesuits 
and  the  Sulpician  party,  which  had  never  abandoned  M.  de 
Cambrai  at  any  time.  Hence  his  blindness  on  the  matter  of 
Konie  and  Jansenism,  which  did  not  allow  him  to  see  or  know 
the  truth.  The  more  the  king  advanced  in  age,  the  greater 
his  feebleness  ;  being  always  without  counterpoise  on  these 
matters,  about  which  he  was  really  profoundly  ignorant,  he 
became  a  prey  to  the  Jesuits  and  to  the  directors  of  Mme. 
de  Maintenon  through  her ;  therefore  the  more  the  Jesuits 
on  the  one  hand  and  Rome  on  the  other  gained  ground,  so 
much  the  more  the  Due  de  BeauviUiers  went  with  them  at 
full  speed.  It  was  chiefly  since  the  death  of  Pomponne  that 
the  great  strides  in  this  direction  had  been  taken,  but  once 
taken  they  constantly  increased.  Torcy  thought  differently 
on  these  matters.  He  knew  the  inestimable  importance  of 
the  preservation  of  the  rights  of  the  crown,  and  that  of  the 
liberties  of  the  Galilean  school  and  church ;  he  also  knew 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  317 

no  less  the  slyness  of  the  Jesuits  and  the  coarseness  of  the 
Sulpicians.  He  was  therefore  often  opposed  in  council  to 
the  Due  de  Beauvilhers.  Torcy  was  extremely  well-in- 
formed, with  much  intelligence,  honour,  integrity,  and  in- 
sight ;  but  wise,  reserved,  and  even  shy ;  he  only  said  what 
he  had  to  say,  and  that  very  gently,  cautiously,  and  respect- 
fully ;  but  he  said  it  well,  because  he  had  the  gift  of  speech, 
and  also  that  of  writing ;  usually,  therefore,  he  had  the  best 
of  the  argument.  M.  de  Beauvilhers,  whose  turn  to  dehver 
his  opinion  was  the  last  but  one  among  the  ministers, 
sweated  ink  to  hear  Torcy,  and  still  more  in  refuting  him, 
which  led  him,  more  than  often,  far  beyond  the  other  minis- 
ters. He  felt  that  he  should  get  the  fire  of  the  chancellor, 
whose  turn  it  was  to  speak  immediately  after  him,  and  who 
never  spared  him,  approaching  sometimes  to  indecency ;  so 
tliat  Beauvilliers  regarded  Torcy  as  one  with  the  chancellor 
in  these  matters,  and  believed  that  it  was  he  who  furnished 
the  latter  with  the  weapons  he  used  with  such  impetuosity, 
adding  the  weight  of  his  own  mind,  freedom,  and  authority 
to  Torcy's  reason.  This  was  what  M.  de  Beauvilliers  called 
being  a  Jansenist ;  and  being  a  Jansenist  was  to  him  some- 
thing more  odious  and  dangerous  than  being  a  Protestant. 

M.  de  Chevreuse,  in  spite  of  his  abjuration  of  Port-Eoyal, 
where  he  had  been  broiight-up,  was  not  so  exaggerated  in 
his  views  as  his  brother-in-law.  He  was  a  very  odd  com- 
pound in  tliis  respect.  Not  less  delivered  over  to  Mme. 
Guyon,  M.  de  Cambrai,  and  all  their  gnosis,  he  had  retained 
from  his  education  a  great  aversion  to  the  Jesuits,  which 
he  carefully  concealed,  though  T  detected  it  more  than  once, 
iuid  he  (li<l  not  deny  it,  in  Uie  secrecy  and  confidence  estab- 
lished between  us.  Consequently,  ho  was  always  on  his 
guard  against  them  ;  and  being  fundamentally  more  pene- 
trating than   M.  (hi  liiiauvillievs,  he  Hurrenderod  himself  le8s 


318  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  xi. 

to  the  schemes  of  Eome.  His  esteem  and  his  affection 
for  these  Port-Eoyal  people,  whom  he  had  abandoned,  had 
never  been  effaced.  He  owned  it  to  me  in  relation  to  nearly 
all  of  them  ;  and  yet,  though  essentially  with  them,  he  was 
practically  against  them.  This  compound  cannot  be  ex- 
plained, but  it  was  such  as  I  have  here  represented  it. 

A  few  days  later,  as  I  was  walking  one  evening  after  mid- 
night with  the  dauphin  and  the  Abbd  de  Polignac,  the  con- 
versation fell  on  the  government  of  Holland,  on  its  tolerance 
for  all  the  sects,  and  presently  upon  Jansenism.  The  clever 
abbd  did  not  miss  his  chance  to  say  all  that  was  likely  to  be 
ingratiating.  The  dauphin  gave  me  an  opportunity  to  enter 
sufficiently  into  the  conversation.  I  spoke  according  to  my 
sentiments  and  without  affecting  anything.  The  walk  con- 
tinued late,  for  the  weather  was  the  finest  ever  seen,  and  I 
left  the  dauphin  only  as  he  re-entered  the  chateau.  I  will 
explain  elsewhere  what  I  thought  of  this  circumstance,  be- 
cause it  enters  into  more  than  one  thing  in  the  sequel,  and 
also  into  my  method  of  seeing  and  being  with  the  dauphin. 
The  next  morning  M.  de  Beauvilliers  took  me  into  the  salon 
and  told  me  that  the  dauphin  had  just  said  to  him  with  much 
joy  that,  from  the  tenor  of  remarks  which  he  had  heard  me 
make  the  preceding  evening  during  our  walk,  he  believed  me 
remote  from  Jansenism ;  and  the  duke  requested  me  to  tell 
him  what  we  had  talked  about,  as  the  dauphin  had  not  had 
time  to  explain.  After  I  had  rendered  him  a  full  account, 
he  told  me  that  he  had  confirmed  the  dauphin  in  that 
opinion  of  me,  and  it  had  had  the  effect  of  making  his  con- 
fidence in  me  freer  and  broader  on  all  points.  Now  that 
is  what  chance  can  do ! 

Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  lived  in  the  same  friendship  with 
the  Dues  de  Chevreuse  and  Beauvilliers,  and  with  the 
duchesses   their   wives ;   and,  what  may  perhaps  be   called 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  319 

unique  for  persons  so  hidden  and  reserved,  in  perfect  con- 
fidence and  freedom;  owing  even  more  to  their  esteem  for 
Close  union  be-  ^®^  virtuB  End  their  experience  of  the  wisdom 
tween  the  three      ^ud  kindlluess  of  her  mind  and  behaviour  than 

coup'es,  Chev- 

reuscBeauviiiiers,    to  what  she  was  to  me,  and  what  they  knew  I 

and  Saint-Simon.  2.     r.  t^  i.i.-ur  i,  ji.j 

was  to  her.  it  must  thereiore  be  understood 
that  we  were  three  couples  forming  a  group  who  hid  nothing 
from  one  another,  who  consulted  about  everything,  and  in 
this  respect  were  inaccessible  to  all  others ;  also  that  our 
intercourse  was  not  only  daily,  but  often  more  than  once 
a  day,  when  we  were  in  the  same  places ;  and  it  was 
very  seldom  that  we  were  separated,  because  Vaucresson 
was  near,  and  I  seldom  left  the  Court  or  Mme.  de  Saint- 
Simon  either.  This  union  of  long  standing,  increased  and 
growing  closer  by  degrees,  had  reached  its  highest  plane  long 
before  the  death  of  Monseigneur,  as  various  remarks  in  the 
Memoirs  may  show. 

This  beinCT  the  state  of  things,  M.  de  Beauvilliers  had 
never  ceased  for  a  long  while  endeavouring  to  inspire  an 
esteem,  regard,  and  liking  for  me  in  his  pupil,  on  whose 
mind  and  heart  he  could  do  so  much.  He  lost  no  occa- 
sion to  do  this  for  several  years ;  but  to  be  cautious  and 
forever  on  his  guard  was  a  dominant  characteristic  with 
him.  The  hatred  of  Mme.  de  Maintenon,  and  the  shaking 
he  had  occasionally  received  from  the  king  himself,  had 
still  furtlier  increased  tlic  fetters  of  his  natural  timidity. 
ITg  feared  the  susi)icinn  of  circumscribing  his  pupil ;  he 
feared  for  me  tlie  jealousy  and  piercing  glances  fixed  upon 
me  at  the  time  of  the  embassy  to  Home.  He  wanted 
me  to  (!ritor,  liUlc  by  liLtk;,  into  the  confidonco  of  the 
young  prince;  but  ho  also  wjimUmI  that  it  .should  not 
in  any  way  appear.  He  re(loii])le(l  all  precautions  after 
the  campaign   of   Lille,   at   which    time    [   hud   openly   do- 


320  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  xi. 

clared  my  feelings,  and  had  been  for  a  time  so  nearly 
lost.  I  recaU  these  facts  scattered  through  the  Memoirs, 
in  order  to  replace  them  once  more  before  the  eye  and 
show  the  reasons  for  the  conduct  which  the  Due  de  Beau- 
vilhers  made  me  follow  in  conjunction  with  the  young 
prince. 

I  never  saw  him  in  his  own  apartments  during  Court 
hours,  except  very  seldom  and  then  for  a  short  time  only ; 
just  enough  not  to  seem  marked,  and  too  little  for  any 
suspicion,  not  merely  of  privilege,  but  of  a  design  to  draw 
nearer  to  him ;  in  short,  of  the  two,  more  negligence  than 
courtiership.  For  this  reason  the  prince  paid  little  atten- 
tion to  me  in  his  own  apartments,  and  none  at  all  beyond 
those  he  was  accustomed  to  pay  to  persons  of  my  station ; 
but  often  an  expressive  glance  or  a  furtive  smile  told  me 
all  that  I  desired  to  know. 

Besides  my  advantage  in  being  constantly  brought  before 
him  by  the  Due  de  BeauviUiers,  and  also  by  the  Due  de 
Chevreuse,  to  a  man  of  the  prince's  character  all  that  ap- 
peared of  mine,  in  the  ordinary  current  of  my  life,  was  of 
a  nature  to  please  him.  He  liked  an  occupied,  uniform, 
simple,  and  unaffected  life ;  he  valued  the  union  of  families  ; 
he  admired  friendships  that  did  honour,  and  in  these,  as  we 
have  seen,  I  had  always  been  most  fortunate.  My  youth 
had  therefore  nothing  that  could  estrange  him  or  check 
him.  All  my  closest  intimacies  were  with  persons  who 
were  nearly  all  agreeable  to  him,  either  directly  so  or 
through  some  connection ;  my  enmities  and  my  estrange- 
ments were  with  those  who  for  the  most  part  were  opposed 
to  him,  and  often  very  directly  so ;  all  of  which  had  come 
about  naturally  and  without  any  art.  I  had  been  on  good 
terms  all  my  life  with  the  Jesuits,  though  without  close 
relations  to  more  than  one  at  a  time ;  such  relations  lasted 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  321 

until  the  death  of  the  last  who  survived  the  late  king; 
they  all  counted  me  among  their  friends  as  we  have  seen, 
an.l  shall  still  further  see,  in  the  case  of  Ph-e  Tellier.  I 
had  also  been  intimate,  as  I  have  shown,  with  Godet,  Bishop 
of  Chartres.  These  were  bucklers  sure  against  the  suspicion 
of  Jansenism;  and  what  I  have  related  of  my  talk  with 
the  dauphin  and  the  Abb^  de  Polignac  in  the  gardens  at 
Marly  put  a  seal  upon  it.  My  habit  of  mind  on  this  sub- 
ject will  so  often  appear  in  what  follows  that  it  deserves 
to  be  explained,  especially  as  the  opportunity  now  presents 
itself  so  naturally. 

The  celebrated  Abbe  de  la  Trappe  was  my  guide  and 
My  sentiments  on  compass  in  this,  as  in  many  another  matter 
s^fstTr^i'd  "'  about  which  I  earnestly  desired  to  have  a 
Jesuits.  practice  as  well  as  a  theory. 

I  hold  all  party  divisions  detestable  in  Church  and  State. 
There  is  no  party  but  that  of  Jesus  Christ.  I  also  hold  to 
be  heretical  the  five  famous  propositions,  direct  or  indirect, 
and  equally  so  all  books,  without  exception,  which  contain 
them.  I  believe  also  that  there  are  persons  who  hold  them 
to  be  good  and  true,  who  are  united  among  themselves 
and  form  a  party.  Therefore,  in  these  respects  I  am  not  a 
Jansenist. 

On  the  other  hand  I  am  intimately  attached,  more  even 
by  conscience  than  by  sound  policy,  to  that  which  is  very 
improperly  known  under  the  name  of  the  liberties  of  the 
Galilean  church ;  for  those  liberties  are  neither  privileges, 
nor  concessions,  nor  usurpations,  nor  even  liberties  of  cus- 
tom and  tolerance,  but  the  constant  practice  of  the  Church 
Universal,  which  that  of  France  has  jealously  preserved  and 
defended  against  the  enterprises  and  the  usurpations  of  the 
Court  of  Rome,  which  has  overridden  and  enslaved  all 
others,  and  done,  by  its  preten-ioiis,  an  infinite   injury  to 

VOL.  II.  — 21 


322  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  DUG  DE   SADTT-SIMON.     [chap.  xi. 

religion.  I  say  the  Coiirt  of  P.ome  out  of  respect  for  the 
Bishop  of  Eome,  to  whoDi  alone  the  name  of  pope  has 
remained;  who  is,  by  faith,  the  head  of  the  Church,  the 
successor  of  Saint  Peter,  the  first  bishop,  with  superiority 
and  jurisdiction  by  divine  right  over  all  others,  whoever 
they  may  be;  and  to  whom  alone  belongs  sohcitude  and 
supervision  over  all  the  Churches  of  the  world,  as  being 
the  vicar  par  excellence  of  Jesus  Christ ;  that  is  to  say, 
the  first  of  all  his  vicars  who  are  bishops.  To  this  I 
add  that  I  hold  the  Church  of  Ptome  to  be  the  mother 
and  mistress  of  all  others,  with  whom  it  is  necessary  to 
be  in  communion,  —  mistress,  magistra,  and  not  domina ; 
nor  is  the  pope  the  sole  bishop,  nor  the  universal  bishop, 
ordinary,  and  diocesan  of  all  dioceses,  having  sole  episcopal 
power,  emanating  from  him  through  the  other  bishops, — 
as  the  Inquisition,  which  I  hold  to  be  abominable  before 
God  and  execrable  to  men,  wants  us  to  believe  as  a  tenet 
of  faith. 

I  believe  the  signing  of  the  famous  formulary  a  most 
pernicious  invention ;  tolerable  only  if  taken  only  in  strict 
accordance  with  the  peace  of  Clement  IX.,  otherwise  inde- 
fensible. It  results,  therefore,  that  I  am  far  removed  from 
thinking  the  pope  infallible,  in  whatever  sense  the  word  may 
be  taken,  or  superior  or  even  equal  to  the  oecumenical  councils, 
to  which  alone  it  belongs  to  determine  the  articles  of  faith, 
and  to  be  thereon  incapable  of  error. 

As  to  Port-Eoyal,  I  think  precisely  as  the  late  king  ex- 
pressed himself  to  Marechal,  —  namely,  that  aU  which  these 
latter  days  have  produced  of  most  saintly,  purest,  most 
learned,  most  instructive,  most  practical,  and,  nevertheless, 
most  elevated,  most  luminous,  most  shining,  issued  from  that 
school  and  from  what  is  known  under  the  name  of  Port- 
Royal;  that  the   name   of  Jansenist   and   Jansenism   is  a 


1711]  MEMOIRS  OF  THE  UUC  DE  SAINT-SIMON.  323 

convenient  pot  of  paint  with  which  to  blacken  those  it  is 
desirable  to  ruin ;  and  that  out  of  a  thousand  persons  daubed 
with  it  there  may  not  be  two  who  deserve  it.  And  I  further 
say  that  not  to  believe  what  it  pleases  the  Court  of  Eome 
to  pretend  as  to  the  spiritual  and  even  as  to  the  temporal,  to 
lead  a  simple,  retired,  laborious,  self-contained  life,  or  even  to 
be  on  good  terms  with  persons  of  that  sort,  is  to  incur  the 
reproach  of  Jansenism  ;  and  that  this  wide  spreading  of  un- 
founded suspicion,  convenient  and  useful  to  those  who  inspire 
it  and  profit  by  it,  is  a  cruel  wound  to  rehgion,  to  society, 
and  to  the  State. 

I  am  persuaded  that  the  Jesuits  are  of  excellent  service  if 
held  to  the  purpose  for  which  they  were  established  by 
Saint  Ignatius.  The  Company  is  too  numerous  not  to  hold 
within  its  borders  many  saints ;  and  of  those  I  have  known 
several ;  but  also  it  contains  many  of  another  kind.  Their 
policy  and  their  jealousy  has  caused,  and  ever  will  cause,  great 
evils  ;  their  piety,  their  sedulous  devotion  to  the  instruction 
of  youth,  and  the  extent  of  their  knowledge  and  their  learn- 
ing has  also  done  great  good. 

Enough  said  for  a  man  of  my  condition.  I  should  step 
out  of  it  and  beyond  the  limits  of  what  is  treated  of  here  if 
I  went  into  further  particulars ;  but  this  is  not  too  much  to 
say  in  view  of  matters  the  necessary  relation  of  which  we 
are  now  approaching.  What  I  have  just  said  will  not  satisfy 
those  who  declare  that  Jansenism  and  Jansenists  are  imnc- 
inary  heresy  and  heretics ;  and  assuredly  it  will  satisfy  far 
less  those  whose  prejudice,  ignorance,  or  self-interest  makes 
them  see  the  heresy  everywhere.  "What  has  infinitely  sur- 
prised me  is  how  the  prejudice  which  placed  M.  do  Beau- 
villiers  among  tlie  latter  ever  allowed  liiin  lo  jmt,  uji  w  i(li  mo 
(as  lie  did  witliout  tlu^  sliglitest  cluud  between  us  all  his  lifti), 
considcrint'  the  absolnlc  fi.inlsucsM  willi  wliicli  T  trouteil  liiiu 


324  MEMOIRS  OF  THE   DUG  DE   SAINT-SIMON,     [chap.  si. 

on  this  matter,  as  on  all  my  personal  sentiments  about  other 
matters. 

Ifc  is  time  now  to  come  to  the  situation  in  which  I  stood 
with  the  new  dauphin,  which  will  develop  the  grand  side  of 
this  young  prince  and  many  curious  matters. 


INDEX   TO   VOL.   11. 


Anjou  (Due  d'),  Louis  XV.,  birth  of, 
193. 

AuTUN  (Bishop  of),  death  and  charac- 
ter, 12. 

Beauvilliers  (Due  de),  promotes 
Scottish  project,  44 ;  conversatiou 
with  Saint-Simon  ou  Due  de  Bour- 
gogne,  53-59 ;  cliaiige  iu  him  after 
Monseigneur's  death;  joy  at  serving 
Ft'nelon,  291,  293,  298,  299,  302,  303, 
315  ;  close  friendship  for  Saint-Simon, 
315,  316  ;  his  bhud  church  views,  316, 
317. 

Beringiien  (first  equerry),  bold  plot  of 
the  enemy  wlio  capture  him  close  to 
Versailles,  18-22. 

Bernard  (Samuel),  banker,  cajoled  by 
king  at  ftlarly,  59,  60;  ruins  Lyons 
by  ills  bankruptcy,  112. 

Berhy  (Due  de),  marriage  to  daughter 
of  Due  d'Urle'ans,  206-214;  without 
money,  214  ;  distress  at  Monseigneur's 
death,  260,  201. 

Beiiky  (I)uchesse  de),  announces  her 
marri.'ige  to  Saint-Simon,  209  ;  Mmo. 
de  Saint-Simon  appointed  her  lailyof- 
lionuiir,  210  ;  marriage,  213,  214  ;  her 
character  develops,  215;  her  be- 
haviour at  <lcath  of  Monseigneur, 
260,  261  ;  her  depraved  nature,  275  ; 
her  Kciicmc,  276;  confiiles  it  to  Mnie. 
do  Saint  Simon,  281,  282  ;  a  reconcili- 
ation between  lier  and  the  DuchcHse 
do  Hoiirgogne,  2h;). 

BfcriiiJNE  (I)nihcHs(i  do),  the  groat  houI 
of  the  Utile  Hock,  .'IIIO. 

Biiion  (liuutunaut-gunurul),  return  from 


Flanders,    from     him     Saint-Simon 
obtains  information,  67,  68. 

Boileal'-Despreaux,  deatii,  neglects 
to  write  the  history,  as  commissioned, 
of  Louis  XIV.,  231,  232. 

Boudin  (physician  to  Monseigneur),  his 
character  and  its  dangers,  228-230. 

Boufflers  (JNlarechal  de),  return  from 
Flanders,  83 ;  honours  bestowed  upon 
him,  84 ;  suppresses  a  riot  in  Paris, 
154,  155  ;  his  unselfish  conduct,  156. 

Bourgogne  (Due  de),  his  father's  circle 
at  Meudon  not  congenial  to  him,  24  ; 
appointed  to  army  in  Flanders,  53; 
thwarted  by  Vendome,  66-72  ;  return 
to  Versailles,  78-82  ;  painful  scene  in 
king's  cabinet  in  relation  to  rank  of 
bastards,  196-198  ;  crayon  of  Iiis  char- 
acter, 201,  204;  opinion  on  tithe  tax, 
226  ;  courtiers  flock  to  him  on  Mon- 
seigneur's illness,  246,  247 ;  his  dis- 
interested action  as  to  money,  refuses 
to  be  called  Monseigneur,  283;  reve- 
lation of  his  cliaracter  on  beconiing 
dauphin,  305-311;  cliango  of  king's 
feeling  to  him,  .'50.') ;  king  makes  over 
much  of  tlic  government  to  him,  308; 
despair  of  the  ministers,  308  ;  conver- 
sation witli  Sainl-Sinion  on  Jansen- 
ism, 318  ;  draws  closer  to  Saint-Simon, 
319,320. 

BocncooNE  (Duchosso  de),  gives  birtli 
to  a  second  son,  12.  I'i ;  singular  trcitt- 
ment  by  MUo.  (Ihoin,  26,  27 ;  licr 
brave  and  useful  conduct  wliiUi  her 
hn-baiid  wiis  in  Kliinilorn.  70,  71  ;  is 
picjiiiliced  against  Saint  Sinmn,  U9  ; 
rucuvurH  from  it,   150;   buliaviuur  at 


326 


INDEX. 


the  illness  and  death  of  Monseigneur, 
241,  242,  246,  256-265;  her  generous 
reconciliation  with  the  Duchesse  de 
Berry,  283. 

Carignan  (Prince,  de),  death,  singular 
treatment  as  deaf  and  dumb,  132 ; 
ability  and  accomplishments,  133. 

Chaise  (Fere  de  La),  death  and  charac- 
ter, 85,  86 ;  compelled  to  fulfil  his 
duties  as  king's  confessor  to  the  last, 
87  ;  king's  testimony  to  him,  87 ;  his 
warning  to  the  king,  88, 89  ;  his  course 
towards  Port-Iloyal  des  Champs,  163. 

Chamillart  (Michel  de),  begs  to  be 
relieved  of  the  finances,  15,  16;  ter. 
rible  condition  of  finances  and  taxa- 
tion, 16-18;  delays  Scottish  project, 
44;  his  coming  downfall,  128;  re- 
proached by  Monseigneur,  123  ;  harsh 
dismissal  by  the  king,  129,  130;  his 
character,  131 ;  Saint-Simon's  faithful- 
ness to  him,  135,  136. 

CuAROST  (Due  de),  parentage  and  char- 
acter, 300 ;  intimate  with  Saint-Simon, 
301,  302. 

CiiEVERNET  (page  to  Due  de  Bour- 
gogne),  relates  to  Saint-Simon  a 
speech  of  the  Due  de  Bourgogue 
about  him,  84,  85. 

Chevreuse  (Ducde),is  secretly  a  min- 
ister of  State,  41 ;  promotes  with 
Beauvilliers  Scottish  project,  43 ; 
singular  agreement  of  his  plan  for 
remedying  the  evils  of  the  country 
with  that  of  Saint-Simon,  103-105; 
love  of  retirement,  298  ;  secret  regard 
for  Port-Royal  des  Champs,  317.  318. 

Choix  (Mile.),  her  relations  to  Mon- 
seigneur and  his  family,  22-27  ;  pres- 
ent at  Meudon  during  his  illness,  245, 
246  ;  was  she  married  to  Monseigneur, 
270,  271 ;  her  disinterestedness,  270, 
280,  231. 

Choiseul  (Marechal  de),  death  and 
character,  230,  231. 

Coxde  (Henri-Jules,  Prince  de),  see 
Prince.  M.  le. 

CoxTi  (Francois -Louis,  Prince  de), 
death,  character,  portrait,  charm,  94- 


97 ;  king's  jealousy  of  him,  97  ;  bia 
love  for  Mme.  la  Duchesse,  99 ;  his 
end  regretted,  100-102. 

CoNTi  ( Marie- Anne,  Princesse  de),  22, 
27 ;  grief  at  her  mother,  Mme.  de  la 
Valliere's,  death,  great  respect  for  her 
mother,  217. 

Court  (The),  the  three  cabals,  136, 137 ; 
its  treatment  of  Due  d'Orle'ans,  145- 
147  ;  balls  at,  228  ;  total  change  there 
after  Monseigueur's  death,  287. 

Desmarets  (controller  of  finances),  at 
his  wits'  end  for  means,  60 ;  proposes 
tithe-tax  in  addition  to  all  other  taxes, 
219.  Carries  it  through  with  a  high 
hand,  220-224 ;  aii>:er  at  being  made 
to  work  under  the  dauphin,  311. 

Duchesse  (Mme.  la),  rules  Monsei- 
gneur and  Meudon,  24 ;  grief  at  her 
mother,  Mme.  de  Montespau's  death, 
37  ;  the  blow  to  her  of  Monseigueur's 
death,  289 ;  her  life  and  portrait, 
290,  291. 

Du  Mont  (Monseigneur's  equerry),  his 
relations  with  Saint-Simon,  23. 

ExGLAKD  (Queen  of),  her  disappoint- 
ment and  that  of  her  daughter  at 
the  marriage  of  the  Due  de  Berry, 
214. 

EspiNOT  (Mme.  d'),  her  character,  25, 
26. 

Fagon,  remark  on  Pere  Tellier,  93. 

Fenet.on,  his  new  position  and  hopes 
on  death  of  Monseigneur,  29.S-299 ; 
his  conduct  and  character,  294-297. 

Feuillade  (Due  de  La),  commands 
before  Turin,  7,  8. 

Finances  (The),  terrible  condition  of, 
16-18,  123;  the  tithe-tnx,  its  iniquity 
and  horrible  results,  etc.,  218-227  ;  the 
currency  re-coined,  danger  of  tamper- 
ing with  the  currency,  228. 

Flanders,  the  disasters  in,  65.  66; 
agitation  and  uncertainty  of  the  pub- 
lic mind,  72. 

Fleury  (Cardinal),  son  of  a  rat  de  cave, 
227. 


INDEX. 


327 


FoNTPERTtris,  anecdote  of  Louis  XIV., 

14. 
FoRBiN  (Chevalier  de),  commands  the 

expedition  to  Scotland,  44. 

Gkammont  (the  Duchesse  de),  proposes 
that  the  Court  give  up  its  silver  plate 
to  relieve  the  finances,  124;  commo- 
tion caused  by  this  proposal,  slight 
result  from  adopting  it,  125,  126. 

Grand  (M.  le),  disinterested  action  of, 
133,  134. 

Hamilton,  the  family  of,  concerned  in 
Scottish  project,  their  character,  45. 

Jansenists  and  Molinists,  outline  of 

their  origin,   history,   and    struggle, 

157-165. 
Jesuits  (The),  157-165;  they  triumph 

in    the    destruction    of    Port-Royal, 

169. 

Lauzdn  (Due  de),  his  vfews  about  melt- 
ing his  silver  ])late,  127. 

Lisi.EBONNE  (Mile,  de),  her  character, 
25,  26  ;  no  doubt  married  to  the  Che- 
valier de  Lorraine,  26 ;  retires  from 
Court  on  death  of  Monseigiieur  and 
becomes  Abbess  of  Remiremont,  288, 
289. 

Loire  (The),  inundations  of,  how 
caused,  40,  127. 

Louis  XIV.,  obliged  to  economize,  11  ; 
appoints  generals  for  campaign,  13; 
prefers  no  religion  to  Jansenism, 
16;  affectionate  note  to  Chamillart, 
16;  Ilia  petty  jcnlouHy,  21;  indiffer- 
ence to  the  deatli  of  Mme.  de  Monto- 
span  ;  liis  speech  about  lier,  .'J7  ;  con- 
sents unwillingly  to  Scottish  project, 
43;  lii.HselfiMhnPHH,  51  ;  Htrange  spcoch, 
52;  cajoles  the  banker,  Samuel  Bor 
nard,  50,  ()0;  iiifliUMiccd  by  Mansart, 
62-64 ;  again  prejudiced  against 
fiaiiit-Siinon,  75 ;  ri'McivcH  Due  do 
Hourgogno  from  I'ManderH  coldly,  79- 
81  ;  his  tOHtim(my  to  Pt-ro  do  T,a 
(IhaiHO,  R8 ;  takers  Pt'ro 'i'illior  as  bis 
confcBSur,  90;   in  cunviuccd  uf  Voii- 


dome'sbad  conduct,  118;  holds  coun- 
cil of  war,  very  stormy,  120  ;  annoyed 
by  threats,  placards,  etc.,  122,  123; 
desires  to  receive  the  silver  plate  of 
Court,  125, 126;  dismisses  Chamillart; 
kindness,  yet  duplicity,  130,  131  ;  is 
influenced  against  the  Due  d'Orle'ans, 
talks  of  a  trial,  145 ;  changes  his 
mind,  147  ;  the  intrigue  against  Saint- 
Simon  paints  him  and  the  Court 
clearly,  149-151;  his  ignorance  of 
religion  and  its  questions,  162  ;  grants 
audience  to  Saint-Simon,  176,  177; 
the  audience,  181-186;  gives  Saint- 
Simon  a  friendly  piece  of  bis  mind, 
183-186;  his  joy  at  the  dismissal  of 
the  Due  d'Orleans'  mistress,  188; 
gives  no  New  Year's  gifts,  191; 
desire  yet  reluctance  to  advance  his 
bastards,  195;  indirect  methods  of 
doing  so,  195  ;  singular  scene  in  rela- 
tion to  this,  196-198  ;  appoints  Mme. 
de  Saint-Simon  lady-of-honour  to  the 
Duchesse  de  Berry,  210,  212  ;  pinched 
for  money,  214;  indifference  at  the 
death  of  Mme.  de  la  Valliere,  217; 
scruples  as  to  the  tithe-tax,  shocking 
persuasion  of  Pere  Tellier,  220-221  ; 
same  influence  in  affair  leading  to 
bull  Unigenitus,  232-238;  goes  to 
Meudon  on  illness  of  Monseigneur, 
242-244,  267,  279,  280;  receives  con- 
dolences at  Marly,  284,  286 ;  changed 
feeling  and  treatment  towards  bis 
grandson,  the  new  dauphin,  305, 
315. 
Ldtnes  (Due  de),  grandson  of  Due  de 
Clievreuse,  marries  granddaughter  of 
Marc'chal  Due  do  Luxembourg,  194. 

Maine  (Due  du),  aware  that  Mon- 
seigneur did  not  like  him,  28;  char- 
actor,  power  of  bis  wile  over  him,  28  ; 
how  lie  deceived  the  king,  29,  30; 
conduct  to  Ills  tnothor,  33,  30;  in  do- 
fault  of  prihcoH  of  the  blood  presses 
for  tUcih  honours  for  his  children, 
191-198. 

Ma  INK  (DuchosHo  du),  lior  clinrnctcr, 
and  troutmoiit  of  hor  hu.iband,  28,  S9. 


328 


INDEX 


MAiNTENOy  (Mme.  de),  remorse  on 
death  of  Mme.  de  Moutespan,  37 ; 
iuflueuced  by  tlie  Duchesse  de  Bour- 
gogne,  70,  7 1  ;  description  of  her  room 
and  habits  at  Versailles,  79,  80;  joins 
Priiicesse  des  Ursins  in  persecuting 
Due  d'Orle'ans,  143 ;  hatred  to  Saint- 
Simon,  152;  supports  Due  du  Maine 
in  his  efforts  for  honours  and  rank, 
195;  behaviour  towards  Mile.  Choiu, 
270;  Monseigneur  cold  to  her,  273; 
rejoices  in  tiie  new  dauphin,  and  in- 
duces the  king  to  put  power  iu  his 
hands,  307,  308. 

Mansart  (Jules  Hardouin),  king's 
architect;  career,  want  of  ability,  61, 
62  ;  method  of  managing  king,  62, 63  ; 
his  bridge  at  Moulius,  63 ;  death,  64. 

Mare  (Mme.  de),  governess  to  children 
of  Monsieur  and  Due  d'Orle'ans,  re- 
fuses to  be  lady  of  the  bed-chamber  to 
Duchesse  de  Berry,  215. 

Marechal,  obtains  from  king  audience 
for  Saint-Simon,  173,  176  ;  relates  to 
Saint-Simon  the  shocking  influence 
of  Pere  Tellier  over  the  king,  220- 
222. 

Marsins  (Mare'chal  de),  his  opposition 
to  Due  d'Orle'ans  in  army  of  Italy, 
and  fatal  results,  8. 

MiDDLETON,  secretary  to  exiled  Queen 
of  England,  45;  characters  of  himself 
and  wife,  45,  46  ;  suspected  of  treach- 
ery, 50. 

Monseigneur,  and  the  parvnlo  of  Meu- 
don,  22-30  ;  will  not  employ  Mansart 
to  please  the  king,  63,  64 ;  his  indif- 
ference to  public  troubles,  76  ;  preju- 
diced against  his  son,  77,  81,  82; 
painful  scene  when  urged  by  king  to 
protect  the  bastards,  196-198;  rela- 
tions -with  Mile.  Choin,  22-30;  re- 
proaches Chamillart  by  Allle.  Choin's 
advice,  128;  his  illness  and  death, 
238,  241-2G7  ;  fir.st  scene  at  Meudon, 
245-247 ;  the  scene  at  Versailles, 
250-265 ;  last  scene  at  Meudon,  265, 
266  ;  portrait  and  character,  268-275  ; 
his  hasty  burial,  278;  funeral  cere- 
monies, 313,  314. 


Montespan  (Mme.  de),  made  to  bear 
the  burden  of  the  king's  economies, 
11  ;  death,  31 ;  history,  charm,  hopes, 
repentance,  31-36. 

Nkmolrs  (Duchesse  de),  portrait, char- 
acter, and  anecdotes,  37-39. 

Nesmond  (Archbishop  d'Alby),  re- 
markable address  before  the  king, 
311,  312. 

Noailles  (Cardinal  de).  Archbishop  of 
I'aris ;  desire  of  the  Jesuits  to  entrap 
him,  163  ;  tiiey  do  so  iu  the  matter  of 
Tort-Royal  des  Ciiamps,  164, 165  ;  he 
feels  the  monstrous  wrong  done  to 
Port-Royal  through  him,  169 ;  scheme 
of  Pere  Tellier  to  overthrow  him, 
169,  233-238  ;  king  deserts  him,  237  ; 
defends  himself  and  is  blamed,  238. 

Orleans  (Due  d'),  his  relations  with 
Saint-Simon,  1-7 ;  appointed  to  com- 
mand army  in  Italy,  2 ;  connection 
with  Mile.  Se'ry,  3,  4;  curiosity  about 
occult  matters.  4-7  ;  his  unfortunate 
position  with  army  in  Italy,  7-10; 
appointed  to  full  command  of  array 
in  Spain,  13;  his  affairs  in  Spain, 
enmity  of  Mme.  des  Ursins,  140-147; 
abandoned  by  the  Court,  140;  his 
position  at  Court  drives  him  further 
into  debauchery,  175.  Saint-Simon's 
effort  to  bring  him  right,  177  ;  the 
struggle,  177,  178;  its  triumph,  179, 
180;  joy  of  king,  188;  conversation 
with  Saint-Simon  about  Mme.  de 
Saint  Simon  as  lady-of-honour,  209. 
210;  his  emotion  at  the  death  of 
Monseigneur,  257. 

Orleaxs  (Duchesse  d'),  her  wise  be- 
haviour to  her  husband  on  his  return 
to  her,  189;  first  interview  with 
Saint-Simon,  189-191 ;  anxious  that 
Mme.  de  Saint-Simon  should  be  lier 
daughter's  lady-of- honour,  206 ;  con- 
versaticm  with  Saint-Simon  on  the 
death  of  Monseigneur,  254. 

Parvulo  of  Meudon  (The),  what  it 
was,  22-30;   its  conduct  during  the 


INDEX 


329 


Flanders  campaign,  6S-72 ;  fury  at 
the  downfall  of  N'eudome,  119;  is 
overthrown  itself  by  the  death  of 
Moiiseigneuv,  258. 

rERTii  (Duke  of),  concerned  in  Scot- 
tisli  project,  his  character,  45. 

PoxTCiLVHTKAiN  (cliaucellor) ,  opposed 
to  proposal  to  melt  up  silver,  1:^5- 
126 ;  anxiety  about  proceedings 
against  Due  d'Orlc'ans,  145;  ct)n- 
sults  Saint-bimou,  146;  result,  147; 
advice  to  ISaint-Simon  on  his  jjroposed 
retirement  from  Court,  171-175. 

PoNTCiiARTRAiN  (minister  of  the  navy), 
son  of  chancellor,  delays  Scottish 
project,  44,  48  ;  his  repulsiveuess,  dis- 
like of  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne,  312. 

PoKT-RoYAL  DES  Champs,  Origin  of 
its  troubles,  157-165;  persecution  of 
its  nuns,  166,  167;  their  cruel  dis- 
persion, 168;  military  destruction  of 
the  place,  168,  169. 

Pketendek  ('I'he),  project  for  putting 
him  on  the  throne  of  Scotland,  40-46 ; 
its  failure,  46-48  ;  takes  the  name  of 
Chevalier  de  Saint-Georges,  and  is 
first  called  the  Pretender,  48 ;  his 
education,  48,  49;  melancholy  visit  to 
the  king  at  Marly,  49,  50. 

Prince  (M.  le),  Henri-Jules  Prince  de 
Condc ;  portrait,  character,  mortify- 
ing position  in  relation  to  the  bas- 
tards, 1 1.3  ;  treatment  of  his  wife,  114; 
Chantilly,  his  love  for  it,  114,  115; 
his  father,  the  hero,  unable  to  make  a 
soldier  of  him,  115;  aberrations, 
thinks  himself  dead,  116. 

Princesse  (Anno  of  Havaria,  Mme.  la) 
character  and  conduct,  114. 

PiivHfc(;uit  (lioutenant-coloiicl),  returns 
from  tlio  army  in  FhindorH,  117;  hoos 
the  kin;^  and  tells  him  the  truth 
about  Vcndomo,  118. 

Saint-Simon  (Due  do),  relationH  with 
Due  d'OrMans,  1-7;  rnreivoH  early 
nowH  of  disaHtcrH  in  Italy,  10,  II; 
hoars  of  ap])()intinr,iit  of  Ducfjo  {{oiir- 
gognctoarmy  in  I'laiidfiiH,  52  ;  warns 
Due  du  IlcuuvillicrH  of  its  rcMults,  5.'i- 


59;  coD.'sulted  by  Beauvilliers  and 
Chevreuse  as  to  conduct  of  Due  de 
Bourgogne  against  cabal,  70  ;  his  bet 
and  its  consequences,  73,  75,  78 ;  de- 
sires to  retire  from  Court,  is  dissuaded, 
77;  his  relations  with  Jesuits,  93 ;  is 
courted  by  1  ere  Tellier,  94;  terrible 
condition  of  the  country,  his  plans  for 
remedy,  102;  interview  with  Due  de 
Chevreuse,  102  ;  their  plans  of  reform 
identical,  103-105  ;  Saint-Simon's  plan 
adopted  in  part,  but  distorted,  under 
the  regency,  105;  his  method  of  giv- 
ing up  his  silver  plate,  125 ;  aware  of 
enmity  of  cabal,  wishes  to  retire  from 
Court,  134 ;  his  wife's  arguments,  135  ; 
loyalty  to  Chamillart,  135,  136 ;  rela- 
tions to  the  three  cabals,  how  he 
obtained  the  information  on  which 
his  memoirs  are  based,  137-140;  his 
position  grows  worse,  144 ;  resolves  to 
be  faithful  to  the  Due  d'Orleans,  145 ; 
gives  the  chancellor  advice  as  to  the 
Due  d'Orleans,  145,  146;  result,  146; 
painful  situation  at  Court,  148-152; 
hatred  of  Mme.  de  Maintenon  to  him, 
152 ;  discusses  his  retirement  from 
Court,  169-173;  decides  to  speak  to 
the  king,  173  ;  resolves  to  bring  the 
Due  d'DrlJans  to  reform  his  life,  177  ; 
the  struggle,  177,  178;  the  victory, 
179,  180;  interview  with  king,  181- 
187  ;  joy  of  his  friends  at  result,  187  ; 
the  treasure  of  a  good  wife.  188 ;  con- 
siders how  to  help  the  Due  d'Or- 
leans, 189;  first  interview  with  the 
Duchesse  d'Orleans,  189-191  ;  Due 
do  Beauvilliers  tolls  him  of  Polignac's 
treachery,  191-193;  discusspH  with 
ministers  the  melancholy  condition  of 
public  affairs,  199;  talk  with  Bonu- 
villicrs  about  Due  do  Bourgogne,  200 ; 
writes  a  pajjoron  the  latter,  201-206; 
works  for  marriage  of  Due  do  Horry, 
206-210;  opposes  dosiro  of  Due  and 
DuchcsNO  d'Ork'ans  that  Mmo.  do 
SiiintSimon  bo  lady-of  hoiiDur  to 
their  (liiught(>r,  206-210;  king  an- 
nouncoH  tlio  appointmontto  him,  21'^; 
r(i/;rut  at  having  pruinotoJ  nmrringo 


330 


INDEX. 


of  Dnc  de  Berry,  215  ;  anxiety  about 
the  future  on  death  of  king,  239 ; 
hears  at  La  Ferte  of  Monseigneur's 
illuess,  240;  honest  remarks,  243  ;  re- 
turns to  Versailles,  245 ;  first  scene 
there,  246-249 ;  his  conversation  with 
the  Duchesse  d'Orleans,  248;  hears 
of  Monseigneur's  death,  254  ;  endeav- 
ours to  restrain  his  joy,  255 ;  the 
scenes  at  Versailles,  255-265  ;  happi- 
ness in  the  friendship  of  the  Dues  de 
Beauvilliers  and  Chevreuse,  302-315 ; 
draws  closer,  but  cautiously,  to  the 
dauphin,  319-321 ;  his  sentiments  on 
the  Jesuits  and  Jansenism,  321-324. 

Saint-Simon  (Mrae.  de),  hears  from 
the  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  of  the 
efforts  of  Saint-Simon's  enemies,  148- 
151  ;  sound  advice  to  her  husband, 
170 ;  her  little  plot  to  bring  friends  to 
bearnpoQ  him,  171-173;  the  proposal 
to  be  lady-of-honour  to  Duchesse  de 
Berry  repugnant  to  her,  206,  212; 
asks  Duchesse  de  Bourgogne  to  save 
her  from  it,  207,  208 ;  is  appointed, 
210;  king  tries  to  sweeten  the  pill, 
212  ;  her  intimacy  with  the  families 
de  Beauvilliers  and  de  Chevreuse,  318. 

Sanadon  (Fere),  Saint-Simon's  con- 
fessor, 93,  94. 

Scarcity  of  Bread,  dearness  of  every- 
thing, sufferings  of  the  people,  153- 
156. 

Scotland,  proposed  invasion  of,  results, 
40-48. 

Tellier  (Pere),  appointed  confessor 
to  the  king,  90;  his  history,  character, 
and  portrait,  90-93 ;  courts  Saint- 
Simon,  94 ;  his  part  in  the  Molini.st- 
Jansenist  controversy,  1 62 ;  his  hand 


in  the  destruction  of  Port-T?oyal,  168 ; 
his  monstrous  advice  on  the  tithe-tax, 
221  ;  his  scheme  to  increase  Jesuit 
power  and  overthrow  Cardinal  de 
Noailles,  233-238. 

Tempest,  terrible  on  the  Flemish  coast, 
39,  40. 

ToRCY  (J.  B.  Colbert,  Marquis  de); 
secretary  of  State,  311. 

TocLOusE  (Louis  Alexandre,  Comte 
de),  his  character,  29  ;  has  nothing  to 
do  with  Meudon  cabal,  29  ;  affection- 
ate relations  with  Due  and  Duchesse 
de  Bourgogne,  30. 

Unigenitcs  (the  Bull),  beginning  of 
the  fatal  affair  of,  232-238. 

Ursins  (Frincesse  des),  bitterly  vindic- 
tive to  the  Due  d'Orle'ans,  140-143; 
mortification  at  having  failed  in  her 
efforts  against  him,  148. 

Valli^re  (Louise,  Duche.sse  de  la) 
death  and  history  of,  216;  character 
and  repentance,  217. 

Vauban  (Mare'chal),  distortion  of  his 
sacred  and  useful  intentions  as  to  the 
tithe-tax,  17,  18. 

Vendome  (Mare'chal  Dnc  de),  7,  8; 
conduct  in  Flanders,  65  ;  his  laziness 
leads  to  disasters,  66 ;  arrives  at  Ver- 
sailles, 82,  83 ;  relieved  by  death  of 
Prince  de  Conti,  complains  of  Pny- 
se'gur  to  the  king,  117  ;  his  downfall, 
119. 

Versailles  (the  chateau  of),  how  the 
chapel  came  to  be  such  an  excres- 
cence, 64. 

ViLLEROY  (Duchesse  de),  death,  por- 
trait, and  character,  286,  287. 

VoYSiN  (M.  de),  minister  of  war,  311. 


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